


One for Luck

by leavingonatrain



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Body Worship, Dirty Horse Politics, Dirty Talk, Does it count as voyeurism if the horses watch, Edging, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Light Bondage, Louis in riding trousers, M/M, Praise Kink, Professional Riders AU, Rimming, Romance, Smut, So many smut tags RIP, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:52:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 96,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leavingonatrain/pseuds/leavingonatrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The very first time Louis remembers hearing Harry Styles' deep, <em>deep</em> voice, he's just won gold at the World Equestrian Games and he's officially back on Great Britain's Olympic team. He's also three sheets to the wind, drunk on victory and champagne, and there's a gorgeous boy whispering in his ear. Life's <em>grand</em>.</p><p>(AU: Louis and Harry are professional riders on the British Olympic team.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on the public personas of One Direction members (and Great Britain Equestrian Team Horses), created just for fun. No profit will be made of this work. Do not repost/alter/translate without my permission.

The very first time Louis remembers hearing Harry Styles' deep,  _deep_  voice, he's just won gold at the World Equestrian Games and he's officially back on Great Britain's Olympic team. He's also three sheets to the wind, drunk on victory and champagne, and there's a gorgeous boy whispering in his ear. Life's  _grand_.

In all fairness, he was sure they'd been introduced before, what with being on the same delegation and all that. It's just, when you'd been through enough competitions, like he had, the other riders' faces started to blur with the sponsors and the patrons and all the other important people he had to meet, and how was he supposed to keep track of anyone other than his own team when there were medals to be won, _honestly._

Now though, with the weight of his showjumping medal on his chest and the alcohol sizzling in his veins, virtually nothing could distract him from those dimples.

"Are you alright?" Louis vaguely observed that the boy really was well suited for dressage, if the way he talked slowly, enunciating each word, was anything to go by. The fact that the boy also won gold in his category might've swayed his judgement a little, as well.

"Sorry, what?"

"You kinda zoned out for a while." He waved half heartedly in front of his own face, and, _big hands_ , Louis noticed, gaze dropping briefly to where he was cradling his own champagne flute.

"Did I? Must be more tired than I thought." Louis lied. If the boy didn't notice his blatant staring he was not gonna be the one to point it out.

"Oh." The boy fish-mouthed for a second, and Louis thought, _pretty lips_. "Of course, your final round was today! The stress must be catching up with you, uh? When I finished my last ride I just wanted to come back to the hotel room and sleep for 18 hours straight."

Louis was considering suggesting the boy helped  _him_ relieve his pent up stress (he never claimed to be subtle) when Zayn sidled up to them, one of the team veterinarians, a blonde bloke whom Louis had caught _singing_ to the horses on more than one occasion trailing behind him. "Tommo, my lad!" Louis could actually tell Zayn's level of inebriation by the amount of Bradfordness in his accent, thanks to their lifelong friendship and shared wild child phase. It was a talent he'd barely used ever since they made it to the grand prix competitions. "Watcha doen?"

"I'm talking to Harry her-" Harry had turned his attention to the blonde bloke (Neil? No, _Niall_. Louis must've been drunker than anticipated), so he turned back to Zayn, whose stoic, pouty face was being betrayed by the way he was slighty swaying to the left every few seconds. Expensive champagne always got to him the hardest. "Nevermind."

"Simon was looking for ya. Still got some arse kissing to do." Louis knew it. He'd been avoiding Simon, his manager and owner of his horse Darcy, for the better part of the evening now. The mandatory networking was probably his least favourite part about the job, and you'd think Simon would cut him some slack after he'd won him a gold medal.

A shiver unrelated to the alcohol he'd consumed or the pretty boy he was still keeping track of with his peripheral vision ran up his spine. He _won_. Darcy was sleeping at her bay in the competition stables and tomorrow they'd return to the UK as victors. Louis knew it was going to be a while before he stopped being amazed by it.

(At some point he lost track of Harry Styles in the midst of hearing old, bald businessmen drone on and on about the _finesse of equestrian sports_ \- which, _what the fuck_ , don't even get him started on this shit - but Simon secured them a hefty sponsorship deal, so the night was not a total loss.)

***

The rush of winning in the WEG had mostly faded by the time he arrived at the equestrian training grounds for his first meeting as a member of the olympic team one week later. Buckinghamshire was not his favourite region but at least he wasn't being shipped off to the west midlands again, _thank fuck_ , that had been a nightmare. The weather was shit and his friends weren't there and Darcy and him hadn't exactly hit it off at first, what with Louis still being so shaken by what had happened to his previous horse Cella, so he had spent his entire training season for the WEG in misery, whining to his mum over skype every chance he got.

It landed him the gold medal for Individual Showjumping, though, and he'd headed for Doncaster almost immediately upon arriving back in the UK, promises of his mum's sunday roast and getting to see his sisters for the first time in months propelling him to skirt the speed limit on the M1 almost the entire ride up north. The weeks prior to a Grand Prix competition were always hectic, and usually his family came to see him compete, but his mum couldn't take the time off of work to go this time, even when he offered to pay for their airfares to France.

His sisters had made him a big banner that said _Lou is the number one_ in big, glittery letters, though, and his mum's cooking was good as ever, so he was mostly appeased. Today he'd woken up early and made the drive down straight to the meeting, getting there with minutes to spare. He already missed his family, but he was also itching to get to Darcy. It was the first time they spent more than three days apart since Louis had started training with her, so he was feeling justified in his separation anxiety.

He had to get through the meeting first, though, and Darcy wasn't arriving until early afternoon. The walk to the Olympic wing felt bittersweet, memories flooding him of the last time he had walked down that corridor two years ago, a sprained ankle weeks before the 2012 London Olympics ruining his chances of competing, the knowledge that his beloved Cella would have to be put down due to her injuries weighing heavily on his heart.

Louis scrubbed a hand down his face, pushing aside the feeling of failure that threatened to overwhelm him every time he thought about _the fall_. He'd made the team again, hadn't he? During the last two years he'd worked his arse off to turn Darcy into a worthy substitute, and he'd won one of the three qualifying spots for the team offered during the WEG, and this time he was going to compete in the Olympics and he was going to win. His stubbornness had already taken him from stable boy at Malik's stud ranch to where he was today, riding a seven figure horse and having over 50k twitter followers - and Liam could _fuck off_ with his "that's not something to brag about, mate", thank you very much.

 _Speaking of Liam_ , Louis thought as he made his way over to his team veterinary and friend, who was fiddling with the kettle in a corner of the large conference room.

"You better be making enough for the both of us, Leeyum, otherwise you're not getting tea."

A gruff "G'morning" was his only acknowledgement before Liam turned back to the machine, picking another cup and tea bag for Louis from the cabinet. Louis could sympathize, if he hadn't had a cuppa before making the drive from his mum's he would be shooting daggers at anything that moved as well.

Louis observed the room slowly filling in as he sipped his too sweet tea (Liam had the taste buds of an infant). He could see Niall talking to one of the members of the eventing team, Zayn still absent, which, given the early hour (at least early for Zayn-like standarts), was unsurprising. There was a flash of bouncy curls in his peripheral vision, and Louis nearly gave himself whiplash to check that _yes_ , that was Harry Styles talking to Susan, an elderly woman who Louis was fairly sure was the dressage programme manager.

He jabbed a finger in Liam's side to wake him from his sleepy haze. "Leeyum. Lima boy."

"What?" Liam didn't even flinch. He had either grown used to Louis' touchy-feely ways, or had found a way to upgrade his abs of steel into... whatever metal was harder than steel.

"You know Harry Styles? The new guy on the dressage team? Also won gold last week? Give me the scoop."

"What makes you think I have some sort of _scoop_ on him?" Louis levelled him with an unimpressed stare. Liam knew every person that worked with them, from horse groom to financial manager. Louis was constantly baffled by his ability of knowing so much about so many people given that he spent most of his day around horses. "Fine. There's not much, anyway. He trained in Switzerland and since he moved back here the WEG was his first Grand Prix. The higher ups are betting on him to hit it big on the olympics, though. Niall says he's a good lad, a right laugh."

Louis ignored the tiny petty voice at the back of his brain telling him that _he_ was a right laugh that would hit it big in the Olympics and switched to more pressing matters. "Is he gay, though? Bi, at least?"

" _Jesus_ , Tommo. I don't know. But if you're gonna try and drag him to your bed, don't break his heart, or do it now that the training season is just starting. We need him to win some medals." Which was completely unfair, honestly. The fact that Louis was too focused on his career to commit to a relationship didn't make him an _arsehole_. He'd always made it pretty clear to all of his flings that riding came first.

"Have you quite finished, Liam? How many hearts have I ever broken for you to be spewing this bullshit about me?"

"Well, Grimmy was pret-"

"Grimmy is a narcissistic jerk who was only mad because he didn't get to dump me first, and you know it. Also, my stomach is not strong enough for you to be mentioning him this early in the morning."

Liam only rolled his eyes ( _rude_ ) and made his way to the nearest seat as the last board member filtered into the room, a sleep mussed Zayn slipping in quietly just as the chatter started to die down. Louis crossed the room to sit by him, handing him the rest of his lukewarm tea as a hello. He was selfless like that, Louis was, how could Liam even accuse him of being a heartbreaker?

***

By the time Louis was making his way past the rows of horse stalls on the main stables his brain was cooked from hearing about tournament statistics all day long, or how the dutch had a strong team lined up, and he just wanted to take Darcy for a hack, maybe even take her up one of the trails that he knew no one ever went on and ended on a spot with a pretty spectacular view of their surrounding landscape, british meadowlands for as long as the eye could see. He was unlocking her stall when he heard whispering filtering from the stall to his right, which had a beautiful grey gelding in it.

"Hello?" And what a nice surprise it was when none other than Harry Styles himself walked out from behind the horse, grooming brush in hand.

"Hello... Oh, Louis!" The way his eyes widened comically shouldn't have been this endearing, yet Louis' mouth was tugging up at the corners without his permission. "Hey, how are you? Didn't get a chance to say hi today at the meeting."

"I'm fine, thank you. You good?" He entered Darcy's stall carefully, mindful of his lack of riding boots, but it seemed she hadn't made herself at home yet, and the floor was relatively clean and safe for his vans.

"I'm great. This your horse, yeah? Tigre? What's her name?" He was peering into Louis' horse stall, wall coming up to shoulder height. Louis stored that information to process later, he still wasn't sure if he was turned on by Harry's height or bitter that he himself couldn't peer into the stalls without going on his tip toes.

"Yes, this is Darcy. Say hi, girl." He directed the last bit at Darcy, petting her coat affectionately. In the world of equestrian competitions, horses had a registered name which they competed under and a stable name, used by their trainers and riders to address them. He knew Harry's horse competed as Valegro (such a _posh_ name), but didn't mention it. "What's yours, then?"

"This is Bean, he competes as Valegro." Louis slowly turned around to face harry, staring at him through the bars.

"You named your horse _Bean_? What happened to the other corny horse names like Tinkerbell, or Cowboy? Those were taken?"

Harry barked out a laugh, his horse huffing by his side like it'd taken personal offence to Louis' jab. "Well, I was a teenager when I named him! Bean sounded great back then."

"Oh. So the horse is _yours_ yours?" Proper posh, Harry must be. It was really uncommon for professional riders to own their horses, since they could be impossibly expensive depending on breed and lineage. A gold medal horse could be sold for hundreds of thousands of pounds, millions even. Louis himself had never owned the horses he'd ridden, both Darcy and Marcella having been co-owned by Simon and some distant royal family member that never attended the competitions, therefore Louis could never be arsed to remember their name.

"No, it's my granny's. My family has a stud farm in Cheshire."

"Well, lucky you, then. I'm always worried Darcy here is going to get sold into _racing_ or something equally barbarian." Harry smiled and _dimpled_. Louis' champagne addled brain hadn't imagine those, then. "How come I never saw you around before the WEG, Harry from Cheshire? The equestrian world is terribly small, I sure would've remembered a pretty face like yours." Louis cocked his hips even though Harry couldn't see, and levelled him with a coy smile. Game on.

Harry blushed. _Bingo_. "I left the youth league and started training for Grand Prix just before the 2012 season. The WEG was my first big one."

"Oh, we've got ourselves a prodigy, then?" Louis softened his teasing with a smile. Leaving the youth league in 2012 made him 23 this season, which wasn't too far from Louis' 25. He didn't usually go for _younger_ , but Louis was nothing if not versatile.

"Just lucky." Darcy nuzzled into his hand, never one for being ignored, and Louis didn't even realise he had stopped petting her.

"Must be the dimples, then." As if on cue, they appeared again. Louis was stupidly attracted to a genetic deformity. "Well, Harry, I was planning on going for a pint with some mates to celebrate the start of the training season." He wasn't. "Are you in London or local?" The training grounds were fifty miles from London, and Louis was almost sure he was going to end up moving locally once winter came. London was not worth over two hours of daily commute.

"London, for now. I might move into the village once winter comes, though."

"Very wise, young Harold." Harry smiled bashfully and didn't protest the nickname. "Fancy joining us later in the city, then?"

“Sure. Do you mind if I bring Niall?”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll text you the address later?” He slid his phone to Harry, waiting as he typed his contact info and saved it as Harry S. and a banana emoji, which - _odd_.

“There you go.”

***

Louis was unlocking the door to Zayn’s flat when he got Liam’s response (“ _ok see u there_ ”). He pocketed the phone, looking around the dimmed space. He’d never understand why Zayn liked to live like a vampire, but he’d been pretty much living there rent free ever since he moved out of his west midlands flat in june, so he was not about to bitch over drawn curtains. Between travelling to Normandie for the WEG and visiting his mum he hadn't actually been sleeping here, but still. The guest bedroom was filled to the brim with his stuff, most of it still in boxes, and he wasn't even remotely prepared for the nightmare that was flat hunting in London, so he might as well just stay and pitch in the rent until it was time to move closer to the training centre in the winter. Zayn’d understand.

“Zayyniee, honey, I’m home!” He was met with silence at first, but as Louis passed the bathroom door on his way to the guest bedroom, he could hear water running inside. He tapped the door three times to give Zayn a headstart in case he was wanking and barged in.

Zayn was having a bubble bath, candles and all. He cracked one eye open, head turning in Louis’ direction. “Yes, Lou Lou?”

“We are going out for a pint later, so don’t fall asleep and drown.”

“Who’s ‘we’ in this scenario?”

“Worry not, Zaynie love, your crush is going too.”

“Liam is not my crush.” Zayn answered, knee jerk-like. Louis barked out a laugh while Zayn’s frown deepened and he sunk a bit more into his bubbly bath water.

“See, I don’t even have to mention him anymore. This is brilliant.”

“Just shut the door on your way out. You are ruining _me time_ ”.

***

“The Lady” was a quaint little pub in a part of town whose favourite feature, in Louis’ opinion, was the almost non existent possibility of stumbling upon someone who was part of the riding circles and might recognize them. He followed Zayn down the stairs into the basement to find Liam, Harry and Niall already talking loudly over one another in a booth by the corner. He paid for a pint of Carlsberg before sliding in next to Liam and directly across from Harry.

“Evening, lads!” They all chorused their hellos while Zayn slid in next to him, Louis noticing how Liam stared a beat too long at Zayn before looking away. It was probably nothing, just a normal reaction to Zayn’s outrageously pretty face (the fact that Zayn was like a brother to him didn't mean that Louis was oblivious to his good looks, he was just slotted in a part of Louis’ brain that was reserved for non-sexual pretty things, like sunsets or black stallions), and Louis wasn't sure if he even _wanted_ to play matchmaker with his two best friends (not to mention the fact that as far as he knew, Liam was straight), but he decided to investigate later anyway.

Niall immediately launched on a story about his and Liam's adventures in Normandie (the vets were part of the delegation, but unless one of the horses got sick or injured mid-competition it was pretty much a paid vacation for them. Louis was _not_ jealous.) that seemed to involve far too much cider and women to be entirely true. He felt Zayn shift uncomfortably on his other side, so he twisted to lay a brief smooch on his shoulder before turning back to the conversation (crushing on a straight man was hard, Louis'd been there). He briefly caught Harry's inquiring gaze though, so he started to think of a way to work the fact that he and Zayn were just friends into the conversation.

"... and by the time I got back to my hotel room I was completely _knackered_ , I swear to ya, those french women are something else. I got her number, though. Pretty fantastic bird, I might call her. We're only one English Channel away, eh? Could be worse."

"Well, I for one went straight to me mum's house, and now I'm bunking in Zayn's guest room until I can be arsed to find a flat around here."

"Aw, aren't you such a mama's boy, Tommo?"

"I sure am, _Lionel_ , you're just bitter cos yours doesn't love you as much."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure your mum likes me more than she likes you, Lou." Which, _no_ , Zayn, not helping.

"She just gives you that impression cos you're my _childhood friend_ and she's a classy lady, but she can't stand you, actually, says you stink up the house with your smoking every time you come by."

"Don't be such a liar, I don't even smoke inside. I bet you chain smoke every time you're away from Darcy and then blame the smell on me."

"Well, being away from your horse can be pretty stressful." Harry quipped from the other side of the table, fiddling with the straw of his drink. "Your families live near each other, then?"

"Thank you, Harold, finally someone who gets me! Zayn here, which, yes, grew up across the street from me, doesn't even miss his horse when he's on hols, the heartless bastard."

"Wait, I thought you were from Bradford." Niall said, pointing his pint first at Zayn, then at Louis, beer sloshing dangerously. "And you sound definitely Yorkshire, Louis."

"Bradford is in Yorkshire too, Niall, you need to brush up on your geography." Zayn quipped calmly, too used to Louis' teasing to be ruffled anymore. "But yes, I was born in Bradford but moved to Doncaster with my mum and sisters when my parents divorced. Dad stayed behind to keep running the stud yard."

"British regions don't make any sense, mate. Things are simpler in Ireland." A collective groan went around the rest of the lads, who, apparently, were sick of hearing about Ireland. Louis might have underestimated the amount of time Zayn and Liam spent hanging out with Niall, then, and both seemed to at least be familiar with Harry too, and Louis wondered why that was. He was pretty social, wasn't he? He could get a bit intense before competitions, admittedly, but he'd always thought of himself as friendly.

Louis got distracted from his musings by something nudging his feet. He looked down to find a pair of _silver and blue space cowboy boots_ nudging his vans and followed the long line of skinny jean-clad legs to find Harry ( _of course_ ) cocking his head in the direction of the bar and then to Louis' empty pint. He nodded and squeezed his way out over Zayn, who slid to his previous spot and continued to pay attention to whatever Liam was saying (something about a part time pool cleaner job he had in uni? God, Liam said the most random shit) without so much as a glance in Louis' direction. Cool as a cucumber, Zayn was, or at least appeared to be to anyone who didn't have Louis' extensive insight into his dorky personality.

"Nice boots, Styles." He said it sarcastically, but Harry preened like it was the highest compliment he could've been paid and crossed his feet at the ankles, leaning against the bar. His broad shoulders contrasted nicely with his slim hips and long legs, a flash of tattooed chest visible through his shirt that was open one too many buttons (not that Louis was complaining) and everything about him was enticing, really.

"Thanks, _Tommo_." And everyone and their granny called Louis 'Tommo', but the way Harry said it - it did _things_ to Louis' insides. "Here." He handed Louis a pint of the same beer he was drinking earlier and sipped from his own brand new colourful drink, cheeks hollowing obscenely. Louis considered protesting, but if Harry was in the mood for buying him drinks, he'd accept it. In the name of team bonding and all that. It's not like Louis was imagining Harry sucking on something else at all. "How'd you even find this place, anyway? It's brilliant."

It really was. There were pool tables and dart boards, the music was good and the beer was cheap and it was never too crowded or too empty. Louis didn't fancy himself a pub connoisseur, but he thought it didn't get much better than that one. "Years ago Zayn used to live nearby, and I used to crash on his sofa a lot. One thing led to another."

"You still live together, yeah?"

"Well, not for a couple of years, we haven't. I've been using his spare room as storage space for the past summer, though, and I might just stay there. Never really liked the feeling of an empty home, meself. Four sisters growing up."

Harry licked his lips and adjusted himself, like the thought of Louis enjoying a full house was arousing or something ( _what even was this kid_ ). "I had only one sister, but plenty of horses in granny's horse yard to keep me company. My sister doesn't like to ride, unfortunately, but I've always loved it. How'd you get into riding?"

Louis could picture it, actually, cute little Harry Styles growing up in a stud yard on the countryside, surrounded by horses.

"Well, it's a bit of a long story." But Harry only looked at him expectantly, prompting him to go on. "Zayn's father owns a stud ranch, yeah? In Bradford? One summer I go up there to visit Zayn, I was about thirteen. Fell in love with the horses, didn't want to come back. We ended up staying until the weekend before school started, Mum was almost losing it. From then on, I always worked in the ranch as a summer job, and got to ride the horses as much as I wanted. Years later, my parents are divorcing, I'm failing my A levels, the only thing that keeps me happy is Cella, the best horse we had there, went away for competitions a lot. One week we hear that Cella's owner had died, his son sold her to someone who was coming to get her and take her away." He paused, the familiar bittersweet feeling he got when talking about Cella swelling in his throat, but Harry was listening with such rapt attention that Louis took a deep breath and soldiered on. "I take her for a last clandestine set of jumps, thinking I'll never see her again, and when I finish there's this man watching me from the edge of the paddock. He asks me who my trainer was, and I'm drawing a blank there, so he introduces himself as Simon Cowell, Cella's new owner, so I start to think I'm in deep shit, eh? But instead he tells me I'm a natural, I just need some polishing, and he's never seen a horse as comfortable as Cella seems to be with me, which apparently is crucial for showjumping, so how about he pays for my training lessons and in exchange, when the time comes, I ride Cella for him in a few competitions?"

"He offered to pay for your training, just like that? From seeing you do one set of jumps?"

"Yeah, I'm telling you, the man's crazy. So I say I'm in, obviously, and he hooks me up with the same trainer as Zayn's, this stuck up old man that we absolutely hated, but got the job done. Zayn moved south to train for eventing after a while and I went to work for Simon full time and got another trainer as well, same one till this day, Paul Higgins. Soon me and Cella were winning shit left and right, so I tell Simon, 'you've got to pay me more, look how much money I'm making you' and he starts to look for sponsors for me, he's brilliant at selling shit, Simon is, got a silver tongue or whatever, and those sponsors want to launch me into Grand Prix competitions. And the rest, as they say, is history."

Louis downed more of his beer, Harry grinning smugly at him before saying, "Well, looks like we've got ourselves a prodigy, here."

Louis laughed, mumbling his "Just lucky." and staring into green pools framed by lovely lashes.

He hadn't managed to talk about Cella in so long, the memories were so painful, but something about Harry made it bearable. That was, until - "Is Cella, as in Marcella? Your horse that..." He interrupted himself as Louis' face fell. "I'm sorry, that was so rude. You don't have to talk about it, I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. Yeah, her registered name was Marcella. I loved her a lot." Harry grabbed his hand and squeezed. Louis squeezed back. "Don't ask me anything more, though, I'm not sure I can answer." Louis wasn't surprised Harry knew about Cella. A nasty rotational fall that ended with a disqualified, injured rider and a dead horse just weeks before they were set to compete at the London Olympics was big enough news at the time to reach people who weren't even interested in equestrian sports, let alone fellow riders. Everyone in his circle knew not to mention it, though, so Harry's question had caught him off guard.

"Of course! Of course, I'm sorry for bringing it up, I'm such a tit." He looked so much like a kicked puppy Louis had the sudden urge to smile despite the bad memories. He also still hadn't let go of Louis' hand.

"Yes, you are." Louis said, mock stern. "But you're lucky you're cute."

Harry affected an over the top gasp, wrenching his hand back and puffing his chest theatrically. "How dare you? I'm not _just_ cute, I'm cute, manly and handsome."

Louis threw his head back and laughed, eyes crinkling. "Of course, Harold. That too."

Ever since they 'met' at the British delegation's victory after party on the last day of competition in France, Harry'd been skirting the flirting line but never quite crossing it, and Louis is still not sure if he just likes to be a tease or if there's intent in the way his hand rests against the small of Louis' back as they leave the bar. Louis doesn't really like to be led as a general rule, but the way Harry's hand is large and sure against his back, pinky pressing into his skin where his shirt's ridden up, is entirely too pleasant, and they've arrived back at their booth before it even occurs him to pull back.

***

In a previously unseen event, Louis woke up before his alarm on the first day of training for the new competition year, too pumped to stay asleep. Zayn was already gone when he padded down the hall on his way to the kettle, a schedule more packed than Louis', given his choice of sport (Hunter Jumping, Dressage _and_ Cross Country? Eventing people were the epitome of indecision. And craziness). As he sipped his tea and nibbled on toast (Louis could never eat a lot in the mornings), he contemplated what the day had in store for him. Monday was a jumping day according to his schedule (Louis had prohibited himself of trying to find out Harry's schedule before he and Paul had worked on his own. Not that he would _ever_ actually work his schedule around Harry's, but as the saying goes: out of sight, out of mind. Later he was pleased to discover, through strenuous bribing of one Liam Payne - who as a vet knew every horse's schedule -, that even though none of their trail days matched, both had their off day on sunday, which was just wonderful), and Darcy hadn't got any serious exercise in almost two weeks, so they'd probably not put in the high bars today.

Last friday night all his hopes of getting lucky had been squashed by having to load a too drunk Niall into a cab and preventing Liam from getting into a fist fight with a rude patron. They hadn't seen each other over the weekend (Louis had considered texting, but flirting and then playing hard to get was a strategy that'd always turned out in his favour before, so he stayed mum) but today was a new day and Louis needed to look his best if he was to lure one Harry Styles into his bed (or be lured into the man's bed, he wasn't picky as long as the end result were orgasms).

"Desperate times call for desperate measures" he muttered to himself as he opened one of the boxes labeled 'sponsor stuff'. As professional equestrian athletes, a lot of them were sponsored by luxury brands that tried to take advantage of the fact that riding was considered an 'elite sport' (cue eye roll) to sell their product. Together they paid the obscene amount of money that was needed to maintain a latest technology, no expenses spared training centre for the british team running (Louis' salary included) and in exchange, Louis sometime starred in their ads and had to use their products on competitions, charity galas and other official appearances. Anytime there was a camera around, really. But since 99% of their training wasn't open to the public (god forbid the dutch learn their secrets before game time) Louis always used his own clothes and left the sponsored outfits for when he absolutely had to wear them.

Not today, though. No, today wasn't a day for beanies, sweatpants over his battered old riding boots or oversized tshirts and hoodies. Today Louis was going to _dress to impress_ , he giggled alone as he squeezed into the cream coloured riding trousers that he knew made his arse look amazing. He briefly considered a riding jacket, but the late august heat had been unforgiving the past few days and he was only training after all, no need for the full riding attire, so he put the jacket back and grabbed a lilac polo shirt of a brand whose logo was a man on a horse. If only the man were jumping, the inception plot would've been complete, he thought.

After minimal styling of his hair (he quite liked the quiffed hairstyle that Zayn had taught him, but no use in wasting his time when he was going to wear a helmet for most of the day) and gathering the rest of his riding equipment, Louis was on the road.

***

Darcy was already fed, saddled and waiting when he let himself into the paddock for his first hour of jumping. Louis wasn't going to lie, being spared of the busy work was one of his favourite things about being a professional.

"Good morning, my beautiful Darcy baby! Don't you look dashing in your new saddle?" Top of the notch equipment, he liked that too. "Are you ready to fly high today? Uh?" He petted her shiny black coat, inspecting her from head to horseshoe.

Louis noticed a familiar tall figure approaching the paddock in his peripheral vision, so naturally he led Darcy around until her left side was facing the newcomer and mounted her with as much flourish as he could get away with, arse sticking up in the air until it settled on top of his horse. He wriggled his hips back and forth for a few seconds for good measure, only marginally guilty of involving poor Darcy in his seduction shenanigans.

"Louis, hey!" He turned at the voice as if just noticing Harry (west end theatre is missing out on him, really), who was leaning on the fence in black skinny jeans and a short sleeved blouse with palm tree prints. Louis honestly couldn't tell if that was his casual clothing or riding outfit. "Looking good this morning."

"Why, Harold, thank you." He went to fix his fringe as a reflex but his riding helmet was already on. "Not looking too shabby yourself. Hope there are no dads around missing out on their barbecue outfits because you hogged all the shirts, though." He grinned impishly as Harry's dimples made their first appearance and counted it as a victory. "Where's Bean, then?"

"Oh, he's indoors. Long and low day for us, maybe throw in some stretching. The new routine is pretty complex."

"I'm sure you'll ace it, Harry." He grinned at the floor, bashful, and the way he flushed dark red at the cheekbones everytime Louis payed him a compliment, not embarrassed or shy but simply please as punch, was... _interesting_. Something to be explored.

"Thanks. Anyway, I'm going to head inside. I just wanted to wish you good luck on your new training."

"Well, then flash me the lucky dimples, stud."

Harry's subsequent smile had him in a giddy mood for the rest of the day.

***

"I'm telling you, Z, he is positively trying to pull me." Zayn blew smoke out into the open space behind the physiotherapy facilities, where they usually hid to take their lunch breaks in peace.

"You're right, Louis, that completely average gesture of professional courtesy _must_ mean he wants the D." And where was Zayn even getting his slangs from, mtv?

"He came by to talk to you at all today? Wish you luck on _your_ new training?" He smugly took another bite of his sandwich - well, Liam's sandwich. But Louis was sure he'd packed an extra one, Liam was such a mother hen.

"You know he didn't. Still doesn't mean he's trying to pull."

"You're just biased by your strictly laddy bro interactions with Liam." Which Louis knew wasn't even true. Once he walked in the stables to find Zayn 'jokingly' using a _riding crop_ on Liam. This was not a bdsm dungeon, folks. "He even flashed me the dimples on demand. That's a done deal, I'm telling ya."

***

The next weeks showed Louis that it _wasn't_ a done deal, unfortunately. If anything, they showed him Harry was even better than Louis at his game of hot and cold, showing up every morning with an extra tea for Louis and then being awfully vague when asked about his plans for the weekend, flirting right back but never taking the final leap into an _actual_ proposition. As August gave way to September, Louis had somehow been roped into a tentative friendship with him, their interactions increased by the fact that Zayn and Niall were now joined at the hip, and while Louis had come home on more than one occasion to find Niall raiding his fridge, or sprawled on his sofa, or even coming out of his shower, he hadn't actually seen Harry outside of work since the pub.

He locked Darcy's stall for the evening with a deep sigh. Today had been an endurance day, with the both of them jumping the same high fence over and over at a lateral angle while Paul was long-leashing and being his usual infuriating self. Louis would probably never fully recover from the emotional trauma of what happened to Cella, and Darcy could surely sense his tiny bit of fear when they went over the particularly dangerous jumps, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe a little bit of fear prevented them from trying to jump higher and faster than possible. Maybe a little bit of fear would be the difference between gold and the rest, but it could also be the difference between dead and alive.

He made his way slowly to the indoor training hangars, breathing in the crisp air and admiring a flock of geese flying over his head in the pinkening sky. Dusk was probably his favourite hour of the day, those moments right before someone turned on the lamps when it was not quite dark, gave him a peace of mind that just wasn't there at any other hour. The lights in the dressage hangar were already on, though, Louis slowly making his way over to see if he could find Zayn. On the days that their hours were more or less the same, they drove in and out on the same car. Helping the environment and all that. Plus, Louis always made Zayn drive regardless of whose car they were in, so he could squeeze in another hour of sleep before work. But mostly because of the environment, of course.

Zayn was, as predicted, still hard at work. While Louis preferred to plow through the training day to build his and Darcy's endurance, Zayn took longer breaks between exercises and, consequently, finished later. His horse, black like Louis', complimented his "dark and dangerous" aura to cut an impressive figure. It was easy to see why he was the favourite poster boy for their sponsors' ads. Louis would be jealous if he didn't actually hate to be used as merchandise for luxury brands.

He caught sight of a grey horse trotting around on another paddock on the far end of the pavilion, Harry sitting atop with his back straight as a rod and his hair in a bun. Louis' feet started to take him there without his permission, leaning on the edge of the space as Harry executed what appeared to be one of his new routines (Louis hadn't internet stalked him and watched all of his competition videos, _nope_ , no one can prove it). It was an upbeat remix of 'Land of Hope and Glory' and 'I vow to thee, my country' and _smart_ , Harry, going patriotic. Clever boy, that was sure to be a hit with the judges. He and Bean finished their routine and Caroline Watson, their trainer, started to applaud, so Louis joined in (Paul never applauded him, Louis thought sullenly, he was lucky to get a pat in the back once in a while.)

Harry's face lit up when he saw Louis. He dismounted Bean and handed his leash to a groom, pausing to whisper something to his horse and lay a kiss near his eye before jogging over to Louis (and how Harry could appear so sophisticated when doing his routine but run like an over excited puppy was beyond him). He miscalculated his break and almost collided into him, Louis extending his arms to steady him - and he was so warm and sweaty and masculine. It had been too long since Louis had got laid.

"Hey, Haz!" He used his grip on Harry's forearms to pull him into a hug, going on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around the man's shoulders. Harry pulled him in tight, almost lifting him off the floor as he nosed behind Louis ear. It was the most affectionate they've ever been but it ended too soon for Louis' liking, Harry stepping back with a brilliant grin.

"Hey, Lou." His bun only accentuated how symmetrical Harry's features were, how harmonious and appealing. Louis wanted to do many, many things with that plump mouth. "You liked it?"

"I loved it! The choreography is perfect and the songs are going to win the judges over, Harry, it's brilliant!"

"Thanks. I like the tracks too." He smiled, green eyes impossibly bright. "What are you doing here? You don't usually train indoors."

"Yeah, no, I'm finished. I just came to wait for Zayn, he's going to give me a lift home."

"Oh. Ok. Well, I'm finished too, I mean. If you wanted to ride to London with me, I'd drop you off." The beginnings of a blush started to creep up Harry's neck, and Louis had to press his lips together to contain the fond. "It's just, Zayn looks like he's still going to be a while." They looked over to the paddock Zayn was using and, yeah, he didn't seem about to finish.

"Okay." He grinned, Harry grinning back at him for a moment before he seemed to snap out of his haze and start walking in the direction of the locker room.

Louis followed him, both entering the empty room and going for their respective lockers. Louis would usually sit on the benches to pull off his riding boots, but, never one to waste an opportunity, he bent down at the waist to lower the zipper of one boot, then another. He heard a gulping sound in the otherwise silent room, the reflective surface of the lockers was clear enough to tell him that Harry was facing Louis' arse instead of his own locker, but as he straightened to step out of his boots and risked a glance over his shoulder, Harry was turned away and apparently really engrossed in remembering his combination. _Right_.

They changed clothes in silence and Louis didn't dare turn in Harry's direction when he heard fabric rustling, afraid of staring too blatantly and coming off as creepy. He shouldered his bag and went to wait for Harry by the entrance, shooting Zayn a text to let him know he'd found a lift and that when he finally decided to come home he'd better be bearing take out or Louis would not let him in.

***

The dark road only added to the intimate atmosphere that surrounded Louis inside Harry's car. It was one of those SUV monstrosities that were made for giants instead of normal people. Harry helping him up by the elbow had felt both pleasant and undignified, but Louis didn't linger on it, not when he could smell Harry everywhere, some hoarse voiced hipster with a banjo playing softly from the car stereo, Harry telling him about a time he'd gone stand up paddle surfing on Lake Lucerne and had capsized so often he had ended up on the emergency room with mild hypothermia. His voice was deep and smooth like velvet, and he spoke so slowly and deliberately Louis couldn't help but imagine what it'd be like to have that voice whispering obscenities in his ear. He shook himself slightly and changed the subject lest he ended up with a hard on.

"Do you miss living in Switzerland?"

"Sometimes, yeah. It was hard at first. My time in the youth league was wonderful, of course, but I moved there at only 16 and even though my family used to visit all the time, it just wasn't the same, you know. I ended up losing touch with most of my mates from school, too, but I made a lot of new friends there, we were our own little family. In the end, moving back here was even harder."

"Your friends understood, though, didn't they? You couldn't compete professionally for the Swiss team if you're British."

"They were really cool about it. I'm seeing them next month, actually, during the Swiss nationals." Harry was going out of the country next month? What?

"I didn't know you could still participate now that you're on the British team." Louis concentrated on keeping his voice even.

"I'm not competing. I'm going to present at the opening ceremony, as a special guest."

"Fancy. But doesn't it feel like a bit of wasted time? I mean, it's totally okay if you just want to go, but you'll be losing a week of training at least, exposing your repertory and losing vacation days just to present." Louis knew he was being prickly, and he didn't even understand why he had the urge to make Harry stay. It was none of his business, Harry wasn't even on the showjumping team, for fucks sake.

"I'm not going just because I want to, Lou. I'm looking forward to seeing my old friends, yeah, but I'm also contractually obligated to go."

"Oh." Well, that changed things. "Sponsorship deals suck, I'm sorry. Which brand is it?"

Harry looked a bit sheepish as he murmured "Rolex." and, wow. Louis thought they only sponsored olympic champions or big events.

"You're sponsored by Rolex? Fuck, where are all your twenty thousand quid watches, then, champion?"

"It's not a sponsorship _per se_ , it's a deal from an old contract, way back in the youth league, and not even a great one, actually. I have to attend at least one of the competitions they sponsor in Europe per year even if I'm not competing, and I have to return the watches after, but the money they pay me per appearance is good and according to my manager being associated with them is 'good publicity for my personal brand', so I stick to it. The Swiss nationals are the earliest in the season, I'm going now so I don't have to go to another in, say, spring, when I'm close to actually competing."

"Wise, yeah. Most of my publicity stunts are, like, 'wear this on event x', 'give an interview to magazine y'. Traveling abroad must be way more exhausting."

"But it's also more fun, I think. Zayn was on the cover of Horse & Hound last month, wasn't he? I see him on sponsors ads all the time. Now _that_ sounds like something I wouldn't wanna do."

"They exploit his model looks, poor pretty boy." Louis laughed.

"You let him know you were coming with me? He might be waiting for you."

"Yeah, I texted him." He checked his phone for Zayn's response. "He's still gonna be a while, apparently, and put me on dinner duty 'cos he's 'too tired'. Lazy wanker, like picking up take out is such a burden."

"Actually, I was thinking we could stop at this great Italian place I know that's right on our way home. We could grab something for Zayn too then, what do you think?"

"Italian, you say? I like the way you think, Harold."

***

"Oh my god. Harry. _Oh my god_."

"I know, right?" Harry grinned at him while Louis moaned some more, slowly chewing the delicious carbonara Harry had picked for him. The place was still fairly empty, the dinner crowd just starting to trickle in. They'd ordered carbonara for Zayn as well, choosing to sit out in the patio, since the September chill was still pleasant enough.

"This place is a hidden treasure. That is the most delicious carbonara I've ever eaten."

"It's good for dates, too, if you wanna, like, bring someone else here."

"Who would I even bring?" Louis says distractedly, shoving more heavenly carbonara into his mouth.

"I don't know. A girlfriend or boyfriend." He immediately took a swig of his wine, but Louis could see he was blushing. Was Harry fishing for information or he actually thought Louis was taken?

Is _that_ why he still hadn't surrendered to Louis' charms?

"I'm a single pringle." Louis was always one for straightforwardness, especially if it got Harry giggling. "No boyfriend. You?"

"No boyfriend either. I'd like to, but it's hard to find time for a relationship with our packed schedules."

"My thoughts exactly, Harold!" He waved his hand around wildly, bits of egg flying from the chunk of pasta in his fork. "Liam is always on my hair about this. _'You're gonna die alone, Lewis'_. Who would even wanna date someone who trains 10 hours a day, six days a week, moves to a village in the buttcrack of England for the whole winter and spends the better part of spring and summer away in competitions? No one!"

"Wait, I said it's hard, not impossible, _Lewis_. You just have to work on it. Liam also has to move and travel a lot."

"Yeah, and look where it's got him! He hasn't had a girlfriend since Danielle, and that was almost a year ago. They split because of the distance, you know. I mean, having a bit of fun is fine, we're all only human after all, but it's best not to get in too deep. Spares everyone involved of the heartbreak."

Harry looked at him for a long moment before murmuring, "We'll have to agree to disagree on that one, then." and the way he looked at Louis - it was almost like Louis was losing something he didn't even knew he'd won. Like Harry was retracting an offer he hadn't even made.

They chatted inconsequentially during the remainder of their meal, Louis making a fuss about paying for everything ( _"You're not paying for Zayn's dinner too, Harold, are you mental?"_ ) before grabbing the card machine out of their waiter's hands before Harry could squeeze in another complaint.

He twirled the handle of the bag with Zayn's carbonara around his fingers as they sped into central London, a silence in the car that didn't seem quite as easy as before dinner. He didn't know if Harry had intended it to be a date, but Louis wasn't going to make promises he didn't intend on keeping even if that would be the quickest way into Harry's pants, that's just not who Louis was.

He knew his no strings attached policy wasn't what most guys wanted to hear, it certainly hadn't seemed like it was what _Harry_ wanted to hear, but, alas, it is what it is. They could still be friends, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was an excessive amount of references to the real world of equestrian sports I just managed to sneak in, I'll give you a biscuit if you can recognize any.
> 
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> [tumblr](http://leavingonatrain.tumblr.com/post/118247419715/fic-one-for-luck-by-leavingonatrain-larryziam)


	2. Chapter Two

"...are you sure that's the right dosage?" Louis hovered over Liam's shoulder as he filled a syringe almost to capacity with a oily liquid that looked like it would hurt like a bitch getting in. Jesus, those horse needles were  _massive_.

"Clarify something for me, Louis, who's the veterinary here, me or you?"

"I'm just asking,  _Jesus_ , no need to sound so-  _OI, will you be careful??_ " Louis knew Darcy was a strong horse, but did Liam need to jab the syringe in like that? 

"Okay, that's it. You're out of here. Darcy can feel your hysterics and you're only making my job harder."

"Mate, look at those fucking needles. I'm not making her restless, the only reason she hasn't rear kicked you yet is because I'm here calming her."

" _Out_ , Louis. Don't make me jab one of these in your leg and say it was an accident." 

Louis ruffed, petting Darcy's coat one last time and making his way out of the stables. He was a doting rider,  _so fucking what_. Protective instincts were in his nature, he had four younger sisters, for god's sake.

He sat on a haystack nearby, squinting at the grey sky. This week he'd had to break in the riding jackets, weather now too cold to be out all day long in only one layer. Combined with his riding trousers and the rest of his riding equipment he looked straight out of a preppy magazine spread, but Harry had complimented him on a blue one that dipped at the waist and accentuated his curves, so he wasn't too bothered, really. It'd been three weeks since they had dinner at the italian restaurant in the outskirts of London (and fuck, it  _did_  sound like a date when you said it like that, didn't it).

On the first week Louis had seen Harry maybe five times altogether, if that. It was undeniable he was being avoided, he'd crossed paths with people on Harry's dressage team whose name he didn't even remember twice as much, at least. When they did happen to be at the break room or at the stables at the same time, Harry was polite and friendly, but his expression was no longer warm, and it didn't take him more than a handful of minutes to make an excuse and leave. Louis had been in a terrible mood all week, not that it had anything to do with it, and didn't dare flirt with him again. On the second week, though, it was like a switch had been flipped, and Harry was all over him again, flashing the lucky dimples and all. Louis decided to count his blessings and just roll with it, flirting right back and then some.

Neither mentioned the conversation, nor another dinner ever happened, though. 

"Surprisingly enough, your horse is fine, even though I can't do my job without you breathing down my neck." Liam was heading out of the stables and plopping besides him on the haystack. 

"Oh, don't be such a pissbaby, Liam, you know I don't actually think you're incompetent." He made to get up, but Liam held his wrist.

"You can't ride Darcy yet."

"I know, I just want to check in on her."

"Just. Stay here for a while. There's something I wanted to talk to you about." Liam said, brows furrowed.

Louis immediately did a rewind of all his possible fuck ups in recent future before getting comfortable in the haystack again. Maybe Harry had said something? "O-kay... What's up?"

Liam fiddled with the handle of his vet briefcase for a moment, not looking Louis in the eye, and Louis relaxed minutely. Whenever Liam was about to scalp him over something, he didn't beat around the bush.

"Zayn appointed Niall as his preferred vet."

"What? _Why?_ " Louis' brows furrowed as Liam finally looked up at him. 

"You didn't know?"

"No, he hasn't said anything." Louis and Zayn had never appointed preferred vets, since it always ended up being Liam who took care of their horses anyway. 

"I don't know why he did it." He heaved a frustrated sigh, puppy face scrunching up. "I asked him about it and he said it was because one of the other doctors had pissed him off about something. So I ask him why didn't he appoint _me_ , then, and he gave some bullshit excuse about it not being personal, he's just been spending more time with Niall lately is all." He looked at the floor again, continuing, quieter, "I didn't buy it, obviously, because he's been distant for a while now. I tried not making it into a thing at first, but he's been avoiding me like the plague, Lou. Didn't want to hang out, was never there for his horse's appointments, didn't respond to my texts. Meanwhile, for weeks all I hear in the vets break room is how ' _Zayn and I did this or that_ '." And Louis was actually concerned now. Sounding bitter was Louis' thing, not Liam's. "And then this? It's a _thing_ now, you know? I can't ignore it. Worst part is, I don't even know what I did wrong. He's just dropped me, just like that."

And Louis had an idea why Zayn was avoiding Liam, yeah, but it didn't make it  _fucking okay_. "I'll talk to him, yeah? Maybe he's just in one of his moods, you know how broody he can get. We live in the same flat and sometimes go days without holding a conversation and it's fine. I'm sure it's nothing you did, Liam." He wanted to smack Zayn, honestly. Liam was such an earnest puppy dog who hadn't done anything to deserve the cold shoulder, no matter how Zayn felt about him.

"Do you know why he and Niall have been spending so much time together?"

"What do you mean, why? What's wrong with Niall?" He liked the blond Irish, but then again, he didn't spend as much time with him as the other three.

"Nothing. I just. I think they're an item now."

"Zayn and Niall?" His pitch rose in disbelief along with his eyebrows. "Niall is straight, Li."

"You know that doesn't apply to Zayn though, he's too fit." Every single man Zayn had set his eyes on, whatever sexuality they claimed to be, had fallen into his bed. Granted, Louis knew Zayn didn't actually seduce straight blokes. Rather, he zeroed in on the hot ones who were in denial about their sexuality and went in for the kill. It was almost like a hobby (one Louis couldn't for the life of him understand the appeal of, but to each their own). Niall didn't ring any bells on  _Louis'_  gaydar, though, and he prided himself with always being spot on. Which was exactly why, on the back of his mind, he asked himself: _since when Liam called blokes 'fit'_?

"You're the exception to the rule, then?"

"Zayn never hit on me, Lou. We're friends."

"So you're saying that if he did, you'd give him a dicking?"

"What? Louis, that's not the point. What I'm  _saying_  is, it's the only plausible explanation for Zayn acting like that, is all. I mean, look at you and Harry. Ever since you set your sights on him it's ' _Harry this, Harry that_ '. Niall said Harry is even worse." And Louis did not buy into his diversion, not for a second, but he was also very interested in what Harry had said about him, so.

"What has Harry said about me?"

"I don't know. I was complaining about how you wouldn't shut up about Harry and he said exactly that, 'Harry is even worse', I didn't ask him to elaborate."

"Why the fuck didn't you? Fucking useless, you are,  _Lionel_ , I'm telling ya. "

***

"ZAYN!" Louis hung his keys in the hall as he made his way into the kitchen to make dinner - and by 'make' he meant choose from their large selection of delivery menus. Zayn came padding in, hands smudged charcoal like he'd just been drawing.

"Hey, Lou. Niall and Harry are coming for a FIFA tournament later, all right? Don't order dinner yet 'cos they're bringing stuff." Louis' pulse missed a beat at the mention of Harry. Here. In his home. Steps away from his bed.

He'd normally be ecstatic at the prospect, except, "Have you invited Liam?"

"I forgot." And Zayn was such a shitty liar, honestly. Louis' twin sisters could lie better than him.

"I'll call him, then."

"Maybe call him another day, yeah? Otherwise the teams will be uneven."

" _The teams will be unev_ - Are you even listening to yourself?" Zayn's eyebrows rose up in his forehead as they just stared at each other in silence for a moment. Louis silently dared him to continue to try to bullshit him.

"I'm tired of pining for him."

"Why don't you make a move, then?"

"Because he's straight, Louis."

"It's not like that's ever stopped you before, though, is it?"

"You know it's not the same. Those men weren't my friends, I had nothing to lose. I don't wanna ruin our friendship."

"You do realise that if you keep ignoring him that's exactly what's gonna happen, though, don't you? He's in the dark, Zayn. He thinks he's being switched for Niall."

"What would you have me do, then?  _'Hey, Liam, I've been in love with you since we met, so I'm gonna need us to take some time apart for me to get over you cos I don't think I can go through another Danielle'_?"

"That's a start, yeah, we can work from there. It's certainly better than your current strategy, which is  _hurting him because he thinks his friend abandoned him_!"

"I'm hurting too, Louis! I've been hurting for a long time, you know it more than anyone, why are you even siding with him?"

"Because it's not Liam's fault you're in love with him!" Zayn recoiled like he'd been slapped. Louis knew he needed some harsh truths, though, because if over fifteen years of friendship had taught him anything it was that Zayn was so frustratingly stubborn Louis didn't know if he wanted to bang his own head against the cabinets or Zayn's. "There are no sides to take if Liam doesn't even know what's going on! It's not his fault, and it's not  _fair_  to keep him in the dark and not invite him to stuff, and if Niall ever mentions this little get together here, do you know how it'll look? It'll look like I'm dropping him as well 'cause it's my flat too. So, yes, I'm calling him."

"Whatever, fucking call him, ask me if I give a motherfuck!"

He left the kitchen before Louis could respond, which was a good thing considering Louis was ten seconds away from strangling him. He scrubbed at his face, leaning against the fridge for a bit. Dramatic exits were Zayn's way of backing out of a fight without actually admitting he was in the wrong. He wasn't sure if inviting Liam over would help matters, though. Zayn was hurting, which usually meant lots of lashing out and being unreasonable. Louis was a fucking  _pro_  at handling it, but Liam and Zayn had never fought before. And Liam was hurting too, obviously, Louis could see it in the way he'd spoken earlier. There was no telling how putting them in the same room in their current emotional state would go, how nasty a fight between the two could get.

***

After a good 30 minutes of shower meditation Louis decided against inviting Liam over. Zayn and Liam were both angry and hurt by recent events, so not meddling until the dust settled was almost a matter of self preservation, lest things went sour between the two and Louis was forced to divide his time like a child of divorced parents. Louis was a meddler by nature, usually, but Zayn's refusal to acknowledge the fact that his actions were hurting the person he claimed to love was a massive indicator that he wasn't thinking clearly.

He made his way into the living room in his footie shorts and oversized tank, his hair still damp at the nape because he could never be arsed to dry it all the way. Zayn was plugging in the last of the console cables, their coffee table cleared except for the controllers and a bowl full of doritos. Louis made his way over, plopping down in the sofa and stuffing his mouth. He'd done his own brand of tidying up in the bedroom in a bout of wishful thinking, going so far as to look for condoms, only to find out he had none. It was a truly pitiful situation Louis was in, longest dry spell he'd ever experienced, but somehow he couldn't summon the will to just go clubbing and find himself a shag.

Zayn sat down on the sofa next to Louis, silence heavy between them, until, "You know Sophia, from the media office?" Louis vaguely connected the name to a pretty brunette that always coached him through interviews and official appearances. Like he said before, not good with names and faces. 

"Yeah."

"Two weeks ago, I'm doing that photo shoot for the official site, you remember? Photographer clicking, she's backstage telling her assistant all about her date with  _that handsome vet Liam Payne_ , who'd taken her to dinner and dropped her off at her door with a kiss on the cheek like a  _proper gentleman_ , and he's  _so fit,_  she  _can't wait_  for him to call her and ask her on a second date. All the while I had to stand there listening, and keep smiling for the camera.  _That_  was when I was done." And Louis didn't know what to say, really. He didn't think there was anything he  _can_  say to make it better. "I know I'm being a proper dick about it, ok? I know. But it's the only way. You know that if try to tell him we can't be friends anymore he's just gonna flash me the damn puppy dog eyes, and I'm done for. I can't say no to him."

"They  _are_  really powerful puppy dog eyes." Louis still rememberd the time he'd somehow been roped into helping Liam move into his new flat in the fifth floor of a building with no lift. He'd had to call in sick the next day, back so sore he thought if he tried to ride he'd snap in two.

"Yeah, and if this Sophia is gonna be the new Danielle, I can't be there to watch it, Lou. I mean it, I can't."

Louis sighed. It was a fucked up situation. "Listen, Z, I see you point, yeah, and if you think distancing yourself from Liam is the only way you can get some peace then I'm gonna support you, you know it. But you're going about this all wrong, bro. You can't just drop off the face of the earth and expect Liam not to question it. And the whole appointing Niall as your vet - shitty move. What's up with that anyway?"

"It was just after the photo shoot. I was angry, and feeling humiliated, even though I knew she couldn't have known how I feel about Liam, and I just wanted to hurt him back. I knew it'd hurt him -  _fuck_. I knew it would hurt him, but I just went straight to the admin offices and asked for Niall as my only vet anyway. I thought he'd be pissed and want nothing to do with me anymore." Louis pulled him into his side until Zayn's head was resting on his shoulder and his arm was spread across Louis' middle.

"You know that's just not the way he is, Z. You're hurting him  _alright_ , I can guarantee you that, but I also know that's not what you really want, is it? You need to fix it. You need to talk to him."

"I know I do. But I can't just tell him the truth, though, Lou. I can't."

"Why not? You know he'd never laugh at you, or be disgusted and weirded out by you. Liam is 100% puppy dog, it's not just the eyes. He's got no malice."

"He'd pity me." Zayn said, cutting in before Louis could protest, "Don't deny it, Louis, you know he'd pity me. And try to fix it, by, I don't know, trying to play wingman at a gay bar. It's like you said, that's just the way he is."

The doorbell rang before Louis could respond, both startling from their position cuddled together on the sofa. Louis got up, shooting Zayn a  _this conversation isn't over_  look as he made his way down the hall. 

Louis swung the door open and there stood Harry, in all his fashionista-looking glory, pink checkered shirt with no T-shirt underneath, dark wash jeans and metallic boots, holding a six pack in each gigantic hand. After a beat of mutual staring Louis belatedly realised Harry wasn't alone, Niall's voice greeting him from behind Harry, carrying four large pizza boxes. He stepped aside and let them in, suddenly self-conscious of his unstyled hair.

"Come in, lads. You can put those in the fridge, Haz, we already have some cold ones in there." He led Harry to the kitchen while Niall went straight for the living room, taking the beers from him and storing them in the fridge.

"I didn't know you had tattoos." Louis closed the fridge and leaned on it, Harry's eyes perusing his 'it is what it is' and '78' tattoos, then dropping to his upper arm, and finally to his shins.

"Yeah, I do. Always wanted something around here as well," He said, circling his wrists. "But my manager would kill me if they were visible in competition clothes."

"They'd look good on you, you have pretty wrists." The things Harry chose to compliment him on, honestly."Are there more?" Harry's eyes perused his covered lower torso, stomach and upper thighs, focused gaze as if willing himself to develop X-ray vision. He was ogling him  _shamelessly,_  and Louis conceded that, really, they were past the point of trying to hide their attraction to each other anyway.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Louis smirked, cocking his hip to the side. There weren't any more tattoos, but he could never pass up a good opportunity for teasing.

"Show me yours and I'll show you mine." Harry's hand twitched by his side as if wanting to reach out, gaze boring into Louis'. It was the boldest he'd ever been, and Louis was still trying to gauge if he was serious when Niall's voice rung from the other room, bursting their bubble.

_"Come on, you tossers! I'm ready to beat ya arses!"_

***

Harry and him formed an awesome FIFA team, as it turned out. Zayn had outright refused to team with him as soon as they joined the other two in the living room, claiming Louis 'got too competitive and sucked all the fun out of it' (and, honestly, Louis was  _an athlete_. Why the fuck wouldn't he be competitive?), which in the end was a good thing, because Zayn and Niall weren't really too bothered when he and Harry  _wiped the floor with their arses_.

After a satisfactory amount of teasing the losing team (from Louis' part, at least, Harry just sat there looking pleased), they'd ended up looking for a film to watch. Harry had jumped for the remote when Louis had scrolled through a channel that was just starting to show 'Love Actually', earning his own share of teasing from Louis. He took it all in stride though, just laughing and pulling Louis into his side as they all settled in to watch it, Niall on the armchair and Zayn sprawled on the rug.

Louis halfheartedly tried to pull back after a few minutes, but Harry's arm around his shoulders kept him in place. He was big on the cuddling, Harry. Louis could deal. He leaned more of his weight on Harry, using his thigh for support as he pulled his legs up and to the other side and made himself comfortable. The temptation to leave his hand on Harry's thigh was too big to resist, so Louis didn't even try. This close, Harry's smell was as poignant as inside his car, Louis' olfactory memory kicking in and bringing back all the feelings he'd experienced that night. 

He didn't  _regret_  the way he acted,  _per se_ , everything he said still held truth, but the more time he spent at the curly lad's company, the more he realised that Harry- He didn't even know how to put it into words. There was no one like Harry, in short, and his appearance was such a small part of what made him appealing that Louis almost felt guilty for looking at him in such a dismissively superficial way when they first met. He could admit now, at least to himself, that if Harry and him ever slept together, Louis would not be satisfied with a one night stand. There was an urge, a hunger for all things  _Harry_  that would not let him brush it off as  _harmless fun_  and go about his life as if nothing happened. That hunger demanded to be felt, to be fed in the way that Louis thrived under his attention, a deep seated satisfaction unraveling in his gut whenever he made Harry laugh, whenever he felt Harry staring at him as Louis ranted over something inconsequential, or recruited him into helping pull a prank on Liam, or told embarrassing stories about his and Zayn's adolescence in Doncaster. It was addictive, being the center of Harry's attention, and as much as Louis felt ready to burst from the sexual tension that'd been there from the beginning, he also feared that if he gave into his desire of mapping Harry's body with his tongue, the spell would be broken and soon Harry would move on to better, brighter things.

"Niall, are you crying??" Louis tuned in back to reality at the sound of Zayn's voice teasing Niall, and he  _was_  crying. To a cheesy christmas movie, what the fuck. Louis turned back to the television (he'd zoned out most of the film) in time to see Colin Flirth speaking portuguese on the screen.

"Aww, he  _is_  crying! That's okay, Ni, it's a touching movie. One of my favourites." He could hear the low baritone of Harry's voice rumbling through his chest from his position, head laid on his shoulder.

"Oh, fuck off, ya shower of cunts. I'd never seen it." He mumbled, as the chorus of 'god only knows what I'd be without you' announced the last scene of the film. Louis stretched luxuriously, too drowsy and content at Harry's side to join in on the teasing. Harry's hand ran down his shoulder to his arm, circling his elbow to move to the dip of his waist. He squeezed lightly as Louis' newly relaxed limbs fell heavily back on the sofa.

Later, when they were tidying up the living room, he felt Harry's hesitation when Niall asked him if he wanted to share a cab, as if he hadn't been quite planning on leaving yet, but had no choice other than agreeing when put into the spotlight. He hugged Louis extra firm on the doorway, squeezing him a little, a 'see ya tomorrow' mumbled into the skin behind his ear. Louis went to bed in a daze, resisting all of five minutes before he gave in and shoved his hand down his pants, baritone voice, earthy clean smell and big, sure hands all swirling together in his mind like an intoxicating cocktail.

***

_hey :) where r u?_

Louis was just finishing towel-drying Darcy's legs, almost one week after their  _fifa tournament slash movie night_ when he received Harry's text. He responded with _south stables_ before dumping his phone back inside his discarded helmet and crouching again to scrub at Darcy's legs. They had horse grooms, of course, but Louis preferred to check himself if everything was in order one last time before leaving Darcy for the night. Thursdays were trail days for them, and with October came the rain, today having been no exception. Louis knew from his experience as a ranch hand at Malik yard that manually drying the horse's legs and applying sulfur powder to the heels after each time they've been out drastically lowered the occurrence of mud fever - but it was the kind of task that required levels of dedication and diligence that Louis didn't trust anyone but himself to have. So, theoretically, Louis could finish his training and hand his horse to a groom to unsaddle and lead back to the stables. He didn't  _need_  to stay past his schedule to tuck Darcy in for the night. He just loved her too much not to.

He was saying his goodbyes to Darcy after having washed his hands when he heard the sliding door of her stall being closed. He didn't turn to see who it was, too late in the evening for it to be anyone other than Harry, specially because the south stables were the least used ones (with winter came communicable diseases, alright, he wasn't taking his chances leaving Darcy in a crowded stable).

"What's up, Haz?" He turned his head to see Harry staring at his bum. He didn't even try to disguise it anymore, the horndog. "Eyes up here, curly."

Harry grinned, unashamed, eyes rising slowly, ranking over every bit of Louis' figure before settling on his amused face. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Oh, you're leaving for Switzerland already?" The Swiss nationals weren't actually going to begin until Monday. Louis had looked the dates up online. _Yeah_.

"Bean gets jet lagged." Was the only explanation he offered. Which, yeah, leave it to Harry's eccentric horse to get jet lagged from a two hour flight and need a few days to recover. "Our flight is early afternoon, I won't be coming in tomorrow."

"Oh. Okay, then." Louis approached him, opening his arms for a hug. "Have a safe _fl_ -" He was cut off by Harry's mouth on his, _kissing him_ , his hands pulling Louis in by the waist and walking them to the nearest wall before Louis could even react.

Harry's lips were sure and insistent on his, no trace of hesitation, biting on his lower lip until Louis gasped in pain, Harry's tongue sneaking in and curling with his. Louis moaned, hands flying to tug at his curls, the heavy weight of arousal settling in his gut. He pressed more insistently against Harry's body, mind a big void except for a chant of  _Harry Harry Harry_ , kissing him, pinning him against the stables wall, hands running down his back until he squeezed the meatiest part of Louis' arse and growled low in his throat, satisfied, like getting to grope Louis was something he'd wanted for a while.

Louis' hand tightened in his hair, pulling until they disconnected, and they just stared at each other, faces flushed and lips swollen. Louis' mouth tugged up without his permission, Harry mirroring his expression until they were grinning at each other like maniacs.

"What was that for?" Harry's hands left his bum, running up his hips and settling at his waist.

"Something to remember me by while I'm gone." He made to step back, and Louis was  _so_  not having it.

"Oh, no, curly, you don't get to tease and then make a dramatic exit." Louis said breathlessly, pulling him in again. Now that he knew what Harry's mouth tasted like, he was instantly addicted. 

Louis moaned as they kissed desperately, hands tugging and pressing, no space between their bodies. He could feel Harry pressing against his hip, already hard, and  _fuck_ , Louis wanted him. He wanted and wanted, and no worse timing ever existed, Harry about to leave the country, both of them tired and filthy from a day of riding and  _snogging in the stables._

"Harry. Darcy's watching." Harry smirked, attacking Louis' neck instead.

"So?" He licked a fat stripe across the tendon in Louis' neck and attached his mouth to the underside of his jaw, sucking.

"I don't -  _oh_. I don't want her to."

Harry pulled back to look at him, pupils blown and a mischievous smile in place. "You've never done anything with your horse nearby?"

" _No_!" Louis replied, scandalized.

"Why not? We spend so much time with them. It's bound to happen." He went in for the other side of Louis' neck this time, nosing his collar aside to bite at the junction between his neck and shoulder.

"I am _so sorry_ for what your horse must've witnessed, Harold, but we are not corrupting mine." 

Harry huffed a laugh, dragging his mouth to his ear and whispering, "Come back to mine, then." His hand travelled to the front of Louis' riding trousers, palming him through the layers, and Louis' mind went fuzzy. "God, Lou, you're so hard.  _Fuck_."

"Your place is an hour away, Haz. I-  _Oh my god_. I can't wait."

Harry kissed him again, hands flying on his belt. Louis couldn't for the life of him understand how he managed to retain enough motor coordination to do it, since Louis himself was so out of it with arousal he just barely had the strength to continue standing. Harry pulled his trousers down with so much desperation Louis was surprised he didn't hear fabric tearing, and  _jesus_ , what were they  _doing_ , anyone could walk past them and peer into the stall.

Any concerns about privacy left his mind when Harry wrapped a hand around him though, wasting no time with teasing and  _dropping to his knees_. " _Harry_.  _Oh, fuck._ "

Harry's mouth was warm and wet and  _perfect_ , sucking with enough force to drive Louis straight out of his mind. He buried his hands in Harry's curls, looking down at the downright pornographic imagery, Harry looking up at him with his lips stretched around his cock. Harry started to bob his head, a hand at the back of his thigh, the other fondling his balls, and Louis could already feel the tightening in his stomach. It had been months and he'd wanted Harry for so long and he was so  _good_  at it, going deeper with each bob until Louis could feel his throat contracting around the head of his dick, the sucking never letting on, and Louis was gone,  _fucking gone_ , moaning loudly and coming down Harry's throat with no warning whatsoever, and Harry choked a bit, throat contracting around Louis, which just made it fucking better, _fuck_ , Louis was a terrible person.

He pulled Harry off his cock by the hair, the last strips of come hitting his tongue and lips, and Louis nearly came again from the vision. He threw his head back against the stall, trying to get air into his burning lungs as Harry tucked him back into his pants and straightened his trousers up. He kissed Louis' open mouth, Louis tasting himself on Harry's tongue, hands winding around his neck languidly. 

"So much for not corrupting your horse."

And Louis barked a laugh at that, Darcy didn't even cross his mind from the moment Harry got his hands on Louis' dick even though she was standing literally  _feet_  away, god, Louis truly was a terrible person. He could still feel Harry poking him at the hip, though. He made for the button of his trousers, but Harry held his hand in place. "Let's go to my place."

"Harry, the car park is on the other side of the property! You can't waltz through the centre with a stiffy!"

Harry seemed to give it some consideration before he took off his riding jacket and folded it across his arm, bringing it close to his body and effectively hiding his raging erection. Louis only had time to snatch his phone from inside his helmet before Harry was pulling him by the hand across the centre, Louis almost having to break into a jog to keep up with his stupidly long legs. He remembered his car keys still inside his locker wistfully but there was no point in riding separately, and Harry looked like a man on a mission, getting them to the car park as fast as possible. Louis would take the train in the morning if needed.

Harry pinned him to his range rover door, snogging him some more before they piled into the car and sped past the entrance of the training centre. The ride into London was charged, Louis' hand sneaking across the console to grope at Harry every now and then until he grunted and mumbled a "You're gonna make me crash the car if you keep doing that.". Harry was so hard it must've been painful, and Louis thought about suggesting they stop at a service area so he could blow him, but Harry seemed to enjoy being edged, flushing and biting his lips, bucking into Louis' hand and groaning painfully, but never stopping Louis' hand from teasing him.

When he finally pulled into his building's underground car park Louis was more than hard again, removing his jacket and placing it in the same fashion as Harry's for the ride up to the flat. He barely had a second to notice the layout of Harry's flat before he was being pinned to the wall, Harry's mouth closing on his as he started for Louis' trousers again. They started to make quick work of the remaining clothing, pausing to step out of their riding boots before Harry started pulling them towards the bedroom. Louis' trousers were unzipped and hanging from his hips while Harry still had half of his shirt buttoned, Louis getting a peek at  _more tattoos_ , jesus, how many did he have? He untucked Harry's shirt, undoing the remaining buttons and pulling it off his shoulders. Harry's abs were a sight to behold, an enticing V line framed by a pair of tattooed laurels. 

Louis placed his palms on Harry's hips, thumbs digging in the laurels. He wanted to come on them, he thought distractedly, eyes straying to the noticeable bulge bellow them. God, Harry was fucking huge, Louis could already tell. He'd never been much of a size queen, but the outline of Harry's thick cock through his trousers was making his mouth water. 

"Your body is fucking amazing." He whispered, lowering his head to bite into a nipple. Harry grunted, hand going to the back of Louis' neck while the other pushed his trousers down the rest of the way. Louis stepped out of them, spreading sucking kisses through Harry's collarbones above his bird tattoos, hands undoing Harry's trousers and letting them pool at his ankles. Harry pulled their hips flush and both moaned at the sensation, lips finding each other while Harry's hand dipped down the back of Louis' pants, middle finger teasing along his crack until Harry pushed a dry finger against Louis' entrance, just enough pressure to be felt, and Louis shuddered violently. 

"I want to taste you." Harry whispered against his mouth, finger still circling his rim. "Been thinking about it for ages." 

And Louis really fucking wanted it too, but, "Haz, we've been riding all day. I've been rained on in these very clothes, I need a shower."

Harry withdrew his hand, only giving Louis a brief warning before picking him up by the back of his thighs. Louis squealed and held onto Harry's shoulders as Harry carried him into his bedroom and then into the en suite, only dropping him inside the shower. He pushed Louis' pants down before stepping out of his own, cock slapping against his belly and Louis was hypnotized by the angry red flush on it, he'd forgotten that Harry had been hard for almost two hours now, and wondered how he was still getting in the shower with Louis instead of begging to get off. 

Harry threw their pants out of the way, closing the sliding glass doors before turning on the shower and guiding them under the spray. The water was hotter than Louis would have chosen but he couldn't care less about it when Harry was kissing him again, naked skin on naked skin, their cocks sliding together in a maddening rhythm as Louis grabbed Harry's pert little bum and ground their hips together. Harry moaned into his mouth, reaching to the side to grab the body wash and squirting it into his palm, turning them slightly so he was blocking most of the spray before starting to massage it into Louis' skin. 

Louis didn't know what he expected when he told Harry he wanted to shower, but it certainly wasn't Harry soaping him up while he whispered filthy things in Louis' ear. He moaned and held onto Harry as the curly man used his soap slick hand to pump Louis' dick, telling him about how he wanted to fuck him into the mattress - and in that moment Louis couldn't deny him anything, moaning his  _yes, please_  as Harry pumped more soap into his hand before bringing it to Louis' opening, wasting no time in getting a finger in.

"Fuck." Louis felt out of control, he was losing his mind and at Harry's mercy, moaning pitifully as Harry pumped a finger in and out before adding a second. Louis hissed at the stretch, it had been a while since he'd bottomed, and he almost never used his own fingers when masturbating, too impatient to get off. He also didn't own any toys, which he was starting to regret as Harry added a third finger because it felt  _fucking incredible_ , fuck, Louis already felt so full it seemed impossible to fit Harry's cock. "Enough, Harry. Enough teasing,  _come on,_  I'm good."

They finished showering in record speed, towelling and tumbling into bed with their hair still wet. Louis laughed as Harry's long hair slapped him in the face from his position above Louis when Harry turned his head to look for the lube and condoms in the nightstand. He dumped the items in the pillow beside Louis' head before kissing him again, sucking biting kisses down his torso and abs that were sure to leave him littered with lovebites, before grabbing him at the hips and manhandling him onto his stomach. 

Louis' breath whooshed out of him as Harry landed a stinging slap to his bum before pushing Louis's hips up enough to fit a pillow underneath. "Said I wanted to eat you out, didn't I?" He mused, grabbing his cheeks with both hands and spreading them. "Fuck, Lou, look at you. You're so fucking pretty, knew you'd be pretty." He licked a fat stripe from Louis' perineum to his entrance, Louis whimpering, red in the face, as Harry's mouth sucked on his rim, going at it like a man starved. His hips started to undulate involuntarily, fucking himself on Harry's tongue a little, and Harry let him, burying his face between Louis' cheeks with such enthusiasm Louis doubted he was even breathing. His tongue pushed past Louis' rim and Louis moaned into the crook of his arm, resisting the temptation to hump the pillow and get off like that only because of the prospect of getting Harry's perfect cock. 

"Harry. Haz, fuck me now, please. _Please_." He wasn't even sure if he spoke loud enough for Harry to hear, his own blood rushing in his ears, but moments later Harry was kissing up his back and opening the bottle of lube. He dribbled it onto his fingers, Louis grabbing the condom and turning onto his back as he ripped it open. His hands faltered as Harry's fingers entered him, spreading the lube around and crooking to prod at his prostate. He moaned when Harry found it, condom dropping entirely out of his hand and landing on his chest. Harry smirked, dimple popping, and Louis would whack his smug face if his higher brain function hadn't left him. As it was, he was reduced to a whimpering mess, overwhelmed already, as Harry rolled the condom on himself and coated it with more lube. 

"Ready?" He asked as he lined himself up, Louis' legs coming up to wrap around his waist as his hands gripped Harry's biceps. He nodded, maintaining eye contact as Harry slowly pushed in, moving in one continuous motion after the head popped in until he was buried inside Louis. His face scrunched up as if in pain and for a moment Louis thought he'd come, but then he opened his eyes again, elbows supporting his weight and adjusting on the mattress until he cupped Louis' face in his hands, whispering "Okay?".

And Louis felt so full and stretched, but already he could feel the underlying pleasure, nodding and clearing his voice, before whispering back "You can move.". He didn't know why they were whispering considering they were alone in the flat, but it felt appropriate for the moment, Harry kissing him softly before starting a deep, even rhythm that punched the air out of Louis' lungs with each thrust. Harry's hands moved from his face to go under his arms and loop around his shoulder blades, preventing him from skidding up the mattress with the force of Harry's thrusts. Louis ranked his hands through Harry's hair, neck straining to kiss him again. Heat coiled in his belly, his cock rubbing against Harry's abs as he drove into Louis again and again with controlled and deliberate motions designed to drive him wild, and fuck it if it wasn't working, Louis was losing his mind. He panted against Harry's mouth, the sweat between their bodies making them slippery. Louis adjusted his grip on Harry's waist, ankles locking behind his back. Harry rose up to his hands into a push up position and crawled up the bed until Louis was slightly bent, and when he thrust in again it punched a loud wail out of Louis, Harry's cock rubbing against his prostate. Harry started a punishing rhythm, really giving it to him, and Louis brought a hand to his own cock, pulling at it as he felt his orgasm approaching fast, coiling in his belly. "Haz, fuck, just like that, don't stop,  _fuck._ "

"Yeah, you gonna come, baby? Gonna come on my cock? Give it to you so good you gonna come all over your gorgeous tummy, aren't you?" And Harry's dirty talk was doing it more for himself than anything else, thrusts starting to become faster and sloppier.

Louis decided to indulge him, moaning "Yeah, Harry, give it to me, make me come on your cock,  _oh fuck_." and it seemed to do it for him as well, if the way he came so hard his vision whited out was any indication. He vaguely registered Harry speeding up so much he was barely pulling out, biting Louis' shoulder as he came, hips bucking erratically.

Harry had the willpower to pull out and get rid of the condom before slumping half on Louis and half on the bed. Louis himself was still coming back to his own body in increments, as if slowly floating back into consciousness. That had been the best sex he'd ever had, hands down. And Harry's stamina was impressive, specially considering the amount of time he'd denied himself. Maybe Harry had an edging kink, Louis mused. He certainly seemed the kinky type. He turned his head to see Harry staring at him, curls a wild tangled nest on top of his head. He knew his hair must be just as tangled, they hadn't bothered with brushing their hair or even shampooing it in the shower, but Louis would deal with what was sure to be his worst case of bed head in the morning. Right now he had a warm, pliant Harry on top of him, he was feeling fucked out and sleepy, relaxed like he hadn't been in months.

"That was... wow. Very unexpected." Louis said, voice rough.

"Really? I thought it was a long time coming." Harry grinned lazily, stretching to put the lube back in the drawer and fishing out a couple of baby wipes. He cleaned Louis' tummy, before swiping tenderly between his legs. He used another wipe to clean himself and dropped them to the side of the bed, clicking off his lamp so that the room was only illuminated by the light of the en suite that they forgot to turn off earlier. He pulled the duvet over them, kissing Louis one more time before settling back against his side, and despite the relatively early hour, Louis found himself nodding off within the minute. 

***

Louis startled awake at the sound of his mobile ringing from the hall the morning after. Harry was still sleeping on his stomach to his right, chest rising with each even breath. The sun was already up, which meant that,  _fuck_ , he was gonna be late. He got up before his mobile could start ringing again, hopping over the discarded condom into the _en suite_. He had a wee, watching his hair in the mirror in dismay. He was right about the bed head, alright, his hair mated on the side he slept on and completely wild on the other.

He washed his hand quickly, using some toilet tissue to pad back into the bedroom and grab the used condom and wipes from last night and dump them in the bin. He turned his pants inside out and pulled them on, padding into the hall to look for his mobile. Zayn had just called, so he dialled his number as he retraced their steps from last night, reassembling his clothing. 

"Hey, loverboy. You need a lift into work from Harry's?"

Louis put his phone between his ear and shoulder as he started to squeeze back into his riding trousers. "You hacked into my iCloud again, didn't you."

"Not hacking if I know your password, Lou Lou. Had to make sure you weren't dead in an alley after you left your car at the centre and didn't come home last night."

"Yeah, it was... not planned. Anyway, can you bring me a shirt and a beanie? I'm gonna shower and change at the centre but I don't want to arrive in yesterday's clothes." 

"Sorry, bro, I already left the house. What was the beanie for?" 

"You'll see." He bent down to put his socks on. "Hey, don't talk on the phone while driving, you wanker. You close?"

"I'm stopped at a red. And yeah, I'm close. Be there in five, yeah? No morning dicking or you have to take the train." 

"Ta, Z. See ya."

He disconnected the call, putting his phone back in his pocket before shrugging on his shirt. He didn't even had his wallet on him, _jesus_ , he'd have had to borrow money from Harry if Zayn hadn't called. Or Harry would drive him into work, if his time allowed it. Probably not though, Louis conceded.

He padded back into the bedroom to find Harry still sound asleep. He was tempted to sneak out, specially because he didn't really know how to treat Harry now, but he psyched himself up and sat down on the bed. He flicked Harry's nose until he twitched and opened his eyes, an adorably confused frown on his face as he took in Louis' clothed state. 

"You leaving?" And his sleep rough voice sent heat into Louis' gut, but  _no time_.

"Yeah. Some of us have to work today, curly." 

"I'll drive you." He made to get up, but Louis stopped him with a hand on his chest. His warm, defined, naked chest. 

"No need to. Zayn's giving me a lift. He's pulling up in a mo."

"Oh." 

"Yeah, he tracked my cellphone, the stalker, and called me offering a ride. That'll give you a couple more hours to sleep, yeah? Or pack a bag, seeing as I didn't see one around."

"Well, let me at least make you some tea to go."

"It's fine. I have to head down anyway, there's no time. I just wanted to let you know I was leaving."

"Okay... thanks, for, uh, letting me know." And it was getting awkward, Louis could  _feel_  the level of awkwardness rising by the second, he needed to make his exit. 

"Have fun in Switzerland, yeah? I'll see you at the charity gala?" He got up, backing away towards the door as Harry regarded him confusedly from the bed, still adorably sleep rumpled. Louis suddenly wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed and cuddle him, and  _yeah_ , he needed to leave. "Bye, curly!" 

He turned and sped across Harry's flat, picking up his riding boots and jacket as he closed the door behind him and almost ran towards the lift, afraid Harry would try to follow him. He put on his boots in the lobby, getting curious looks from other residents that were just going out for or coming back from their morning runs. 

Zayn pulled up moments later, and Louis threw himself into the passenger seat.

"Hey, look at that bedhead! You were right about the beanie, you look proper _walk of shame-y_."

"Shut up and drive."

"Jeez, aren't people supposed to be in a good mood the morning after getting laid? Was he bad in the sack or something? Does he have a small willy?" Zayn smirked, pulling up into traffic.

"What? No, _he doesn't_ \- Things got awkward, this morning. And he's leaving for Switzerland today."

"Oh, the infamous morning after a one night stand. I feel ya, bro." And Louis didn't- Had it been a one night stand? "He's gonna get back for the charity ball, though, won't he?" The members of the Olympic team were supposed to attend a charity gala next week's Saturday to raise money for... something, Louis couldn't keep track of them all.

"I think so. I mean, we're all supposed to go, right? The nationals are done by wednesday, so he has the time to get back, but I'm not sure. How did you even know this was his place anyway? You been here before?"

"Liam said he saw you two leaving together yesterday. It was an educated guess." Zayn and Liam had struck a tentative truce after last week. Zayn had apologized, but still refused to tell Liam the truth, and Liam, human puppy that he was, was over the moon at having his friend back. Louis suspected next time they heard about Sophia this temporary peace would crumble, but, hey, one problem at a time.

Right now his main problem was probably still naked under warm covers in a little flat in west London, a scene, Louis pondered as the buildings of London slowly morphed into the green of the countryside, he had no idea if he'd get to see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you not all chapters will end with Louis staring out the window of a vehicle! haha
> 
> If you like it give it some love, you know the drill.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://leavingonatrain.tumblr.com/post/118600767025/leavingonatrain-the-professional-horseriders-au)


	3. Chapter Three

Louis sifted through the garment rack inconspicuously, trying to make as little noise as possible lest he alerted the tailor, who had stepped aside from fixing Louis' tuxedo to take a call, of his snooping. Small yellow post-its on top of every garment bag told him which tuxedo belonged to whom, one of the training centre small conference rooms having been made into a makeshift fitting room. And so far no _Harry Styles_.

It didn't necessarily mean anything, Louis knew. The sponsor label had probably been alerted that Harry was away and would do his fitting some other time, no reason to fret. And if Harry  _did_  end up skipping the charity ball, so what? They'd see each other the following monday anyway, it's not like Harry would abandon his chances at an Olympic career and just stay in Switzerland. 

If only Louis' own reasoning was enough to dispel the heavy fog in his heart.

***

By saturday he was alternating between "self righteous indignation" and "assured calmness" at an alarming rate. The radio silence from Harry was deafening, and over a week after he'd gone to Switzerland Louis no longer expected to find a text or missed call from Harry every time he unlocked his phone. He tried to tell himself that he was expecting too much, that Harry may have well considered their night together a one night stand and left it at that. Louis certainly didn't do anything to prevent that impression, rushing out in the morning like he did, but still. Harry was probably too busy catching up with his old swiss friends to even bother sending a life signal in Louis' direction, the fucker. If it weren't for Harry's routine pictures on the event's page Louis wouldn't even know he'd made it to Switzerland alive.

Not that he'd looked for Harry's pictures or anything, he just happened to stumble upon them. And then saved them on his phone. Whatever. 

He dismounted Darcy at the door to the stables and started to lead her inside. It was barely three in the afternoon, Louis' training for the day cut short so he had time to get ready for the charity, and Darcy would probably be let out into the pastures again at some point before the evening, so he didn't bother with his usual routine, just tucking her into her stall, saying goodbye and making his exit. It was as he'd crossed the stables to make his way out the other side that a familiar grey mane caught his eye. His heart started hammering in his chest before his brain could even put into tangible thought what Bean's presence meant. He intercepted the nearest stable boy, a wide eyed lad that he'd seen caring for Harry's horse before. 

"Hey. That's Valegro, yeah?"

"Uh, yeah, it is." The boy stammered, and  _really_ , Louis thought, that was unnecessary. He wasn't scary at all, as much as he'd like to be. 

"When did he come back?"

"Uh, yesterday evening, I guess? I got here pretty early today and he was already here."

"Thank you. Cheers." He made his way to the locker room, stomach twisted. Harry was back in the country, had been for hours, and hadn't contacted him at all. Well, that was pretty telling, wasn't it? ' _Better, brighter things_ ', the mean voice at the back of his head reminded him. This time it was harder to ignore it. 

***

The event was one of those dreadful cocktails-followed-by-dinner, full of rich people congratulating each other on their philanthropist efforts, and Louis was fucking grateful for alcohol. It was as he'd been making the rounds, Simon shepherding him between groups of people, that he'd spotted Harry for the first time, chatting excitedly with a group of people Louis didn't recognize. He made sure the champagne flutes were a constant stream after that, and those long, slim glasses only filled by half made it seem like he was drinking a lot, he knew, but he also didn't care. Simon said he didn't need to stay for dinner and the charity auction, which was definitely a testament to his foul mood - Simon usually made him suffer through the entirety of these posh gatherings. He didn't know if Harry had already seen him, he'd steadfastly refused to look in his general direction again. 

It was as Zayn materialized by his side to lead him to where the members of the british team were gathering for a press picture that Louis' hopes of ignoring Harry the whole evening were shot to hell. Harry smiled at him, already in place along with the rest of his dressage teammates, and Louis nodded in his direction before going to stand by Josh, one of his showjumping teammates. He plastered his commercial smile on as multiple flashes got off at once. The photographers then asked for a picture with the individual disciplines, starting with showjumping. After another round of flashes, Louis made his excuses and started to leave, not wanting to hang about like he was expecting Harry to come talk to him, and then got even angrier when Harry didn't follow him. So now that they'd slept together, Louis wasn't even worth talking to? 

Louis knew, on a baser level, that he wasn't being logical, but logic wasn't his priority at the moment. No, his priority was getting himself another strong drink, and  _fuck Harry Styles_ , Louis thought as he leaned on the bar, flagging the bartender down. 

***

Several drinks later, he was just bitter. Louis didn't understand the inside of his own head, didn't understand why he was so affected by Harry's apparent aloofness. He was an expert in one night stands, for fucks sake, why couldn't he just  _let it go_.

And now he also had the theme song from frozen stuck in his mind. It was that kind of night.

He snatched another drink from a waiter, nodding in agreement to whatever nonsense Simon was saying to their group, and looked for Harry in the crowded ballroom. It didn't take much to find him, even in Louis' inebriated state (he'd perfected the art of getting discreetly pissed in posh social gatherings over the years, Louis had. It was the only way he'd been able to survive this far), and  _fuck it_  if he didn't look delectable in that tuxedo, hair slicked back in a more tamed version of his usual wild disarray of curls. He didn't deserve to know it, but Louis was going to tell him he looked good anyway because he was pissed and  _pissed off_  and horny and he hadn't thought about anything else in a  _week_. Since Harry was the root of the problem, it was only fair he helped out.

His vision swam but he managed to send " _u look handsome_ " and " _will u fuck me again 2nite_ " in rapid succession. He kept an eye trained on Harry across the ballroom until the younger man fished his phone out of his pocket. He waited and waited until, after what seemed like an eternity, Harry looked up from his phone and stared right at him, like he knew all along where Louis was. 

They locked eyes for a long moment, before Harry nodded his head towards the exit and Louis thought  _yes_ , putting down his drink in a passing tray and making his excuses, all the while steadfastly ignoring Zayn's knowing gaze. 

***

It wasn't until Harry was pulling the duvet over his body that Louis realised Harry's efforts to disrobe him had stopped at his underwear, and he was instead being tucked in.

"Harry." He absolutely  _didn't_ whine. 

"You're too drunk, Lou. You didn't look drunk, before." He addressed Louis like one would a child, adding after Louis made another displeased noise, "I'll fuck you in the morning, if you still want it."

And Louis was sufficiently appeased by that promise that he felt sleep pulling him in before Harry'd even finished taking off his own bow-tie.

***

Louis knew he wasn't at his flat before he'd even opened his eyes. The bed was softer than his own and the smell of  _Harry_  was everywhere, on the sheets and on the warm chest his head was currently pillowed in. His eyes shot open before closing just as fast,  _fuck_ , he was starting to see why Zayn never opened the curtains, his head pounding in the too bright room.

He removed himself from the warmth of Harry's body carefully, almost crying in happiness when he saw that there was a glass of water along with painkillers waiting for him on the nightstand. He gulped down the tablets and padded quietly into the en suite, using the toilet and splashing cold water on his face before staring at his reflection over the sink. The night was slowly coming back to him, drunkenly texting Harry in the middle of the charity ball, asking Harry to fuck him ( _Jesus_ , whatever happened to his self esteem), the silent ride to Harry's flat, his hand possessively gripping Louis' thigh the entire time, only to end up tucking Louis in without so much as a kiss.

Not that Louis didn't appreciate the chivalrous gesture, he  _did_ , he was probably too drunk to actually manage a shag, but now he had to come out and do the most pointless walk of shame of history,  _god_ , why did people let him near phones when there was alcohol involved. Harry had probably only taken him home out of pity for his drunk arse, he was so embarrassed.

His plans of quietly slipping out of the flat were shot to hell when he re-entered the room to an empty bed. His face scrunched up in frustration, but before he could do more than just stand there cursing his luck, Harry entered the bedroom, still in his pants, carrying two mugs with his hair up in a bun. He was just so goddamned  _fit_ , it really wasn't fair.

"Good morning!" He said, chipper as ever, crossing the room to stand in front of Louis. "Here. How are you feeling?"

Louis accepted the proffered mug and took a grateful sip. "Yeah, uh, better, thanks. And thanks for, you know, letting me crash here."

"No problem." Silence fell over the room while they drank their tea, and Louis' skin started to prickle with it, so he latched onto the first subject he could think of.

"How was Switzerland?"

"It was great, yeah. Bean aced the routine and I got to see a lot of old friends." He said, before adding quietly, "Missed you, though." 

Louis looked up at that to see Harry staring intently at him. "Yeah?"

The minute Harry did bedroom eyes at him, Louis lost all his words. He was pathetic.

"Yeah. Thought about you a lot, all alone in my hotel room." He was moving closer, taking Louis' mug and depositing it alongside his own on the nearby dresser. Louis licked his lips, blood pumping faster in anticipation, Harry's figure looming over him impossibly arousing. "Did you miss me?"

Harry didn't give him a chance to respond before he was kissing him though, fierce and possessive, and Louis let himself be crowded against the wall ( _he was starting to notice a trend_ ), moaning his appreciation into Harry's mouth when their hips aligned in the most delicious way. He ranked his fingers through Harry's scalp just to feel him shudder against his body, and shudder he did, groaning deep before grabbing Louis' bum and squeezing with both hands, breathing hard through his nose.

Harry wrenched their mouths apart but didn't move away otherwise, panting against him. "Lou." He slid his hands up only to move them back down under Louis' pants this time, palms hot against his arse cheeks, kneading and squeezing like he wanted to reshape the flesh. "Lou, did you mean it? Yesterday, did you mean it?" 

Louis kissed him again because,  _fuck_ , Harry sounded so wrecked already, and Louis wanted to wreck him some more. He started walking them to the bed until they tumbled down, Harry flipping them and grinding down on Louis as his mouth bit and sucked on his neck, his collarbones. Louis threw his head back, moaning shamelessly at the sensation and Harry groaned low in his throat, hand flying blindly to the nightstand to fish out the lube and condoms. 

It was too fast, Harry was too much, and as his mouth made a path down Louis' body, Louis changed his mind. He wanted to let Harry fuck him into the mattress until Louis forgot his own name, he _did_ , but he  _couldn't_ , not after last night, not when he was still feeling so exposed and vulnerable and  _clingy_. If they were doing this, he needed to keep some measure of control.

He flipped them again, moving his legs down until they dragged from their position straddling Harry's waist to his shins, Harry's clothed cock right at his face. Louis pressed to the front of Harry's pants and inhaled, overwhelmed by the smell of him. He nipped at the skin just above his waistband, looking up to find Harry staring down at him, pupils blown, hands fisted by his sides like it was costing him to just let Louis explore. Louis wasted no time in dragging his pants down, stepping off the bed as he watched Harry's mouth-watering cock slap back against his stomach as it was freed. Louis pushed his own underwear down next, taking advantage of the fact that Harry seemed entranced by his cock to nudge the man's legs apart as he crawled between them. If Harry didn't buy into his suggestion he could just blow him, but fuck it if Louis wasn't thrumming in anticipation to fuck him, unable to think about anything else now that the idea had presented itself.

He dragged his hands across the planes of Harry's thighs,  _so smooth_ , almost hairless, before letting his fingers ghost behind his balls, leaning over to whisper at Harry's ear, "Let's do it like this, now, yeah?"

He heard Harry's sharp intake of breath as Louis dragged the pad of his thumb over his entrance, letting his fingernail catch slightly over the ridge. God,  _let him be versatile_. 

"Okay, yeah."  _Thank you._  "You wanna fuck me?" He asked, breathless, and Louis was starting to notice that Harry liked to be vocal and receive feedback. He could definitely roll with it.

"Want it so bad." He coated his fingers with lube as Harry's hands came to card through his hair. His fingers caught on the knots formed by a night's sleep and all the product Zayn had put into his hair to hold his quiff in place the night before, but the roughness only helped Harry get a firmer grip on Louis' head. Louis was eager to wreck him until he was incoherent and his fingers were slack. He encountered resistance right on the first finger, Harry gripping him like a vice. "Fuck, Haz, you're so tight."

"Been a while," was all Harry offered, breathing deeply through his nose until he relaxed enough to allow Louis' second finger. He pumped them in and out a couple of times, crooking them in search of Harry's sweet spot. He knew he'd found it when Harry's dick jumped, untouched and lying against his stomach, and he tugged at Louis' hair until they were kissing again, sloppy and perfect.

By the time Harry could accommodate three fingers, Louis twisting them expertly inside of him, he'd developed a deep flush that spread through his neck and chest, hips rocking along with Louis' fingers, eyes wide and glassy, and Louis had to squeeze himself at the base for a second, affected as he was by Harry's debauched state. He removed his fingers gently and rolled a condom on, breath whooshing out of him as Harry rolled onto his stomach and got on all fours.

_Fuck._  

He smoothed his hands over Harry's pert bum, spreading his cheeks to reveal his hole, shiny with lube and squeezing on nothing, and Louis' heartbeat stuttered. He lined himself up and inched inside very, very carefully, tuned to the sounds Harry was making, until he'd bottomed out. He stilled for a second, as much for his own sake as for Harry's, the hot tightness of him threatening to overwhelm Louis. 

"Lou, c'mon." Harry mumbled, voice hoarse, and pistolled his hips on Louis' dick, Louis' grip on his hips turning white knuckled as he started to move, driving into Harry slowly but forcefully at first, gaining momentum as breathy moans were punched out of Harry with each snap of his hips. He moved his hands to Harry's shoulders for better leverage and increased his pace, watched the muscles of Harry's back contract and expand as he shoved back into Louis, matching his thrusts. He moaned loudly on a particularly well aimed thrust and dropped to his elbows, head hanging down, and Louis had no breath left to make a sound with, biting his lips and concentrating at maintaining his pace as his thighs burned and heat pooled in his belly. 

Harry's hand flew over his own cock, wanking furiously, and Louis prayed for him to be close because he couldn't hold back much longer, Harry too perfect and delicious on him for Louis not to come. He was at the end of his rope, biting his own fist hard to keep from coming, when Harry suddenly tightened even more around him, pulsing rhythmically onto the sheets and finally slumping forward on the bed, spent.

Louis thanked the gods above for providing him with enough stamina to make sure Harry came first, biting his lip in arousal as Harry slowly turned on his back and levelled him with a sated, debauched stare. Louis ripped the condom off and it was barely a minute before he was coming all over Harry's laurel tattoos like he'd wanted ever since he first saw them. He slumped forward for a sloppy kiss before rolling off of Harry and onto the side, heart rate slowly returning back to normal.

For a few minutes the room was so silent he could hear the hum of the radiator, and just as Louis was falling back asleep, "Is this, like, a two-time thing?"

Louis opened his eyes to find Harry on his side, staring down at him, hand on Louis' tummy almost spanning it from one side to the other. "Do you want it to be a two-time thing?"

"No." Harry responded immediately, even shaking his head for good measure. "Do you want it to?"

Louis countered with "Then why didn't you call while you were in Switzerland?", which he knew wasn't fair, but, _fuck_ , he wanted to know so bad. 

"You didn't call either." They stared at each other in the stillness of the room, silently challenging, until Harry heaved a deep sigh and relented. "I wanted to call, but I wasn't sure if I should, what with how we left things, and we never call each other just to talk-"

"That's because we usually see each other every day, Harold." Louis replied, trying for stern, but there was a smile creeping into his tone, impossible not to, now that he knew Harry was just as unsure as he was. "I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't thrilled you fell off the radar, and then yesterday morning I saw your horse was back-"

"We flew in really late and I was knackered, and when I woke up I had to run to the tailor to fit my tuxedo," Harry supplied.

"-and then at the party you didn't talk to me."

"I wasn't sure how to behave! You were the one who rushed out last week, Lou, I had a whole routine of making you breakfast and driving you into work prepared for before you left." His hand trailed up Louis' torso and neck until it rested on the side of Louis' face, then back again. That's just a thing that Harry did, petting him without reason or intent. "And then at the party you kept looking at me and then looking away, I thought you were waiting to speak somewhere more private. I was following your lead, I didn't want to come on too strong and have you rushing out again." He paused, squinting at Louis. "You're not going to rush out now, are you?"

And surprised laughter bubbled out of Louis at that. He pulled Harry down by the neck and whispered, "No," before kissing him. "Not a two-time thing for me, either." He whispered at Harry's ear, their cheeks touching. 

He could feel Harry's face stretching into a smile against his, before Harry whispered back, "Good."

And just like that, all was well in Louis' world again. 

***

They'd laid together in bed for a while, Harry eventually getting up to clean himself ( _As much as I appreciate your artistic intervention,_ he'd said, pointing to his come-streaked laurel tattoos, _I need a shower_ ). Louis had dozed off to the sound of Harry's shower, finally able to relax again after such a tense week. He'd woken up later to the smell of bacon, his stomach protesting its emptiness, and had padded into the kitchen to see Harry putting the final touches on a full breakfast, new teas for them brewing on the counter. They'd eaten in the kitchen table, Louis later thanking Harry for breakfast by sliding to the floor and crawling between his legs, giving him an enthusiastic blowjob and getting himself off on it, coming onto his fist as Harry moaned wantonly and fucked his mouth.

Later, after Louis had showered, Harry had regretfully told him he had to pick his sister up on Heathrow, so Louis had dressed in his slacks from last night and a borrowed jumper from Harry, balling up the rest of his tuxedo and shoving it into a plastic bag Harry had given him ( _of course_  he shopped at waitrose, the posh fucker). They'd kissed in the car in front of Louis' building until a car honked at them, Louis hopping out and taking the stairs to his flat two at a time, full of giddy energy.

He swung the door open, letting it bang against the wall, and laughed when he could hear Zayn grumbling about 'marking the walls' from the kitchen. He dropped his yesterday clothes in the hamper and put on footie shorts, choosing to keep wearing Harry's jumper. Zayn was munching on cereal sprawled on the sofa when Louis re-entered the living room, dropping besides him and plugging his mobile charger in the power socket allocated to a lamp they never turned on.

"By your drastic change in spirits, I'm taking a wild guess and saying you and Harry cleared things up?" Zayn asked amusedly, smirk widening when Louis' only answer was a pleased hum, before he snatched the remote and looked for something for them to watch. They compromised on an episode of Geordie Shore, sprawling together on the sofa as Zayn ate his 2 pm cereal and Louis replayed every minute of the past night and morning in his head.

He'd dozed off for a while when his phone chimed in the armrest, and he unlocked it to a picture of a pretty blonde with suspiciously familiar dimples sitting across a table and smirking behind a teacup with the caption _Someone was homesick and demanded afternoon tea!_. The Wedgwood china and the drapes behind her were familiar, but Louis couldn't exactly pinpoint where he'd seen it before.

"Who's that?" Zayn chimed from besides him, and they really needed to work on their boundaries sometime. What if it'd been a dick pic?

"Harry's sister. She flew in from America earlier."

"And she's staying at the Four Seasons? Posh." _Of course_! Amaranto lounge on Four Seasons Park Lane! That's where they were.  _Look at him, recognizing posh hotel lounges by the furniture,_  he smirked to himself. Too many years of sponsors meetings could do that to a lad.

“No, they’re just there for tea, I think. Harry said she’s taking the train up to their mum’s later tonight.” He typed in _make sure u eat the apple and blackberry crumble tartlets, they’re my favourite!! now go pay attention to your sister!!_ and put his phone in his pocket. Zayn shifted until his head was pillowed in Louis’ lap, absently pinching Louis’ leg hair until Louis swatted at his ear. The air was still inside their flat, afternoon light making the dust particles visible. Louis never knew what to do with himself on his day off, ambling around the flat or making the drive up to his mum’s for the afternoon if he was feeling particularly homesick. Zayn was apparently no better, flicking absently through the telly channels. "Hey, shouldn't you be training today?"

"We all got today off. Day after the charity ball and all that." Which, _unfair_. Sundays were already Louis' day off, he should get Monday too as compensation. He burrowed further into the cushions, the remaining hangover getting him ready for another nap ( _he was getting old_ ), and let sleep pull him in again.

***

Louis startled awake some time later with the doorbell ringing, Zayn a dead weight on his lap and his neck stiff from his uncomfortable position on the couch. He got up, stretching, and padded quietly to the door.

Harry was on the other side, to his surprise, and his mouth stretched in a smile when he saw Louis still in his jumper. "Hey."

"Uh, hey, Haz. What's up?" He fixed his fringe self-consciously, his rumpled state contrasting against Harry's smart casual attire.

"Just passing by to drop these." He extended a bag, the Four Seasons' logo visible on the side. Louis already knew what was inside, an instant rush of affection flooding through him.

"How did you even get them?" He doubted the Amaranto lounge's posh afternoon tea had a takeaway option.

"I flirted with the waitress." Harry grinned at him, shameless.

Louis rolled his eyes, mumbling, "Of course you did," before pulling him in for a kiss, Harry's arms wrapping around his waist while Louis went on his tip toes for better access. They kissed sweetly, tongues twisting against each other before coming apart with slow pecks. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Harry went in for another kiss, this one deep and slow, both of them breathing heavily through their noses on each other's cheeks. "I have to go," He mumbled between kisses, "Gemma's waiting in the car." but went in for Louis' mouth again.

Louis chuckled, pushing against Harry's chest. "Go enjoy the rest of your time with your sister. Thank you again." He said, pulling the bag from Harry. Harry pecked him on the mouth one last time for good measure before turning on his heeled boots and making for the stairs.

Louis waited until he was out of sight before closing the door, leaning against it with a dreamy sigh. He padded into the kitchen, briefly considering waking Zayn up before deciding against it. _Harry bought them for me_ , he thought giddily, the tips of his fingers tingling. He pulled the container out of the bag, and there, under all the trademark layers of unnecessary wrapping, was a set of the apple and blackberry crumble tartlets that once were the sole reason why Louis survived some meetings. He picked one up and bit into it, moaning immediately and stuffing the whole thing into his mouth. _Fuck_ , he loved those things. He sent Harry a picture of him holding another one by his face, cheeks stuffed and eyes crossed, followed by a string of emojis designed to convey his satisfaction, while he got the kettle ready.

He also ended up saving some for Zayn anyway, but, alas. The sentiment still stood.

***

It was the middle of the following week when Louis peeked inside the vets break room to find Niall and Liam already eating their sandwiches in a table by the corner. He cursed to himself, now he was too late. Paul kept pushing for one more go around the paddock, delaying Louis' strategic optimal time for stealing Liam's lunch when he knew their break room would be empty ( _What_? His other options were packing his own lunch everyday - _not happening_ \- or driving into the village - their ‘cafeteria’ consisted of two vending machines, one for coffee or tea and one for rubbish crisps).

Niall spotted him, waving him over, and Louis approached their table, already thinking of a strategy to get them to share their lunch with him.

As soon as he sat down Liam threw him another sandwich, though. That was fast.

"I know it's you who steals my sandwiches, wanker." _Oops_.

"What are you even talking about, _Lionel_?"

"I don't even like peanut butter!" Which was true, now that Louis thought about it. He could make a mean PB&J, though, Louis considered as he bit into it. This one was delicious. "You're lucky I'm too good of a person to let you starve."

"Louis, I'm glad you're here, mate, you can settle a debate for us." Niall said, adjusting his grip on his monster sandwich.

"Huh. What about?"

"Have you ever been attracted to a girl?"

"Like, ever, or..?"

"Ever since your gay epiphany." Louis snorted at the term, thinking for a second, while he chewed on his sandwich. He'd spent sixth form in denial, having girlfriends he never wanted to touch, but Niall probably meant after Louis actually accepted himself and kissed his first boy.

"Well, there was this trans girl I met before she transitioned, we had a thing. But she hadn't told anyone, including me, that she identified as a girl, so I don't think it counts." The both of them stared at him, mouths slight agape, and _honestly_. "No, lads, I haven't. Why?"

"Niall says if you're attracted to just one person that's different from your orientation, then that changes everything." Louis' brows furrowed. What were these two on about?

"Well, of course it changes! If I'm a straight bloke, and I fancy another bloke, then I'm not straight! Right, Louis?" _Oh_. Was this conversation some sort out euphemistic coming out?

"But it's just one bloke! You don't fancy any other bloke, and you like birds just fine, it's just this _one_ bloke." _Definitely_ an euphemistic coming out.

"Uh, lads, are you two trying to tell me something?" Louis asked, eyes trained on Liam, who shifted uncomfortably.

"No, Lou, we're just discussing it. Hypothetically." _Right._

"Well, Liam - and Niall," He amended, not wanting to put Liam in the spotlight if he wasn't comfortable. "I'm not a sexual orientation expert, meself, but what you lads are describing seems to be bisexuality. Niall is right, even if it's just one bloke, that man wouldn't be straight, and that's fine."

"We're not saying it's not fine, Louis." Liam replied, tone offended, and, _wow_ , this conversation was a minefield. "But, if, hypothetically, you didn't feel attracted to any other bloke, then that one that you're attracted to is just, like, a glitch in the matrix."

"Liam, bisexuality doesn't necessarily mean a 50/50 split of attraction. If y- _a person_ is attracted to 99 blokes and one bird, they're still bisexual. It's not a set formula." Liam went pensive after that, staring into his sandwich, and Louis knew how he could get stuck into a problem, so he tried to defuse the tension. "I'd normally suggest the person just goes for it, try to pull the person they're attracted to and see where it goes, but I know we're all obviously talking about Niall's gigantic crush on me."

Niall burst out laughing while Liam smiled into his sandwich, shoulders a little less tense. In a perfect world, Liam would trust him enough to come to him explicitly about his sexuality doubts. In an even more perfect world, he'd pull his head out of his arse and just snog Zayn senseless, but. It is what it is.

"You wound me, Tommo! My heart is bleeding! Here I am, covertly trying to pull you, and you shoot me down mercilessly!"

"It's for the best, Nialler, we wouldn't work." Louis shot him a _faux_ comforting look, breaking into giggles when he couldn't hold it.

"Right, 'cause your dick belongs to Harry, eh?"

"You're shagging Harry?" Liam whipped around to look at him, eyes wide, which just made Niall laugh harder.

"Jesus, Payno, how clueless are ya?" Niall teased good naturedly. "I've met teenagers who flirt more discreetly than those two."

"For your information, Horan, _one_ : My dick doesn't belong to anyone but me, and _two_ : We are not obvious, you're just a nosy bastard."

"Why didn't you tell me you're dating Harry?" And, _Oh no_ , Liam was pulling the puppy dog eyes on him. _Shit._

"Because I'm not? Jesus, Li, don't look at me like that, I'm not hiding a boyfriend from you. It's just a thing that we've got going on. It's casual."

***

Louis was lazing around on his following day off, telly showing a rerun of gogglebox that he was too distracted to really pay attention to. He was horny. The week had been exhausting, weather too rainy to be outdoors, which had put him in a shit mood, and he'd only been with Harry when they'd managed to coordinate their lunch breaks one day and snog like two horny teenagers behind the physiotherapy facilities the whole 30 minutes.

He wondered what would be the fastest way of getting Harry to come over without having to booty call him at 1 pm on a Sunday. An idea struck him and Louis hopped off the sofa to Zayn's bedroom, which had a full body mirror, losing his sweatpants on the way. He hitched his t-shirt up and twisted around this way and the other until he got a good angle on his arse, careful to not let his tattoos get in the shot (not showing your face or any identifiable features was, like,  _sending nudes 101_ ) and sent it to Harry.

His phone started ringing as he was making his way back into the living room, and he thought,  _that was fast,_  but it was Zayn's name on the caller ID. He panicked, thinking that he'd accidentally sent it to Zayn and was now in for perpetual teasing, but the call disconnected before he could do more than just stare at his phone in horror. He quickly went to his messages and no, he did send the nude to Harry S. banana emoji (who still hadn't responded,  _rude_ ), so he dialled Zayn's number. 

"Lou Lou! Guess where am I."

"I- well you  _should_  be training, but I'm gonna go on a limb and say,  _not training_?"

"It's my lunch break, wanker. I'm at the flat complex administration is subsidizing. The two bedroom ones are actually quite decent this time and the rent is, like, half of what we'd pay for the same flat in London."

"Is Liam there? Do I have to say I can't share with you so it doesn't sound weird when you ask him next?" Every year the administration struck a deal with landlords from the village nearby to offer lowered prices for the athletes. It was only fair, since the training centre was smack dab in the middle of nowhere (something about space and privacy requirements) and they had to spend an absurd amount of time there, even more so in the winter when the training intensified. He vaguely recalled reading an email informing him about it, but last Olympics the flats subsidized were so small and shitty that only the athletes that had partners and kids to support (and couldn't move out with them) moved in. Louis, Liam and Zayn had moved out of their respective flats and rented a two story Victorian terraced house together, and Louis was normally supportive of Zayn's half-assed efforts to seduce Liam, but he didn't really fancy being excluded and having to live all by himself this winter.

"What? No, he's here but that's not it, listen. If we take this flat, with administration chipping in they'll be really cheap, like, 300 quid for each of us I think. And it's furnished. We don't even have to hand in the London one."

"You want to keep both flats?"

"Yeah. We won't be home for most of the week so the utility bills will be really low too. It's doable, Lou." Louis knew it was doable. They were sponsored elite athletes, had been for years. They weren't exactly pinching pennies anymore. Doable and wise were two different things, though.

"Exactly, we won't be here 80% of the time, why would you wanna keep this one?"

"I don't really feel like dealing with a move again, and having to look for another flat in London later, you know it's a nightmare. This one is perfect, I don't want to lose it. And remember that last time we kept going to London every weekend and crashing at someone's place anyway. I just think it'd be easier, think about it, yeah? We don't have to decide now."

Zayn had a point, the few still unpacked boxes in Louis' bedroom even though he’d been officially living here for almost three months were a testimony to how much he hated moving. And 300 quid per month until they started travelling like crazy again for the summer competitions wasn't going to put a dent in Louis' savings account.

"What about Liam? He's there with you, yeah? Does he know he's not gonna move in with us this time?"

"He gave me the idea, actually, when I was complaining about having to move around earlier. I think he'll move in with Niall and Harry." _Harry._ Louis had been so distracted by Zayn that he'd forgotten he was supposed to be sexting Harry, how'd that even happen.

"I'll have to go check out that flat meself before we sign anything. And I'll have the bigger bedroom. Now go back to work and let me enjoy my day off, I'm doing really important stuff here."

"I don't think eating cereal in front of the telly qualifies as important. Bye, Lou Lou!"

Louis hung up and pulled up his messages app to find that Harry had responded. " _so hot, lou, fuck_ " was the first one, followed a few minutes later by " _look what you do to me_ ". A picture of Harry's dick, hard and poking out of his pants, was attached. A third message came through while Louis was still busy drooling over it.

_bent over now, come on_

Louis started for Zayn's mirror again, typing " _u wanna direct my nude shots now harold_ " but snapping it anyway, bent over in front of the mirror with one hand holding the phone between his parted legs and the other spreading his cheeks. It was obscene, his hole on display, and Louis bit his lip and blushed a bit as he pressed send.

_fuck_

_wanna eat you out_

_can I come over_

And Louis couldn't say no to that, could he? He sent " _yeah_ " on his way to the bathroom, Harry answering " _be there in 20_ " just as Louis was stepping into the shower.

***

Louis first became aware of Harry's hands still petting the back of his thighs, his world slowly coming back into focus. Harry was still face-planted between Louis' bum cheeks, tongue swirling in lazy patterns over his hole like he didn't want to stop even after Louis’ orgasm.

"I think I blacked out for a second." He said hoarsely, Harry's mouth stretching into a grin, biting at the juncture between his leg and arse. Louis rolled out of the wet spot, throwing the pillow he'd humped on the floor. Harry's face was drenched, mouth, nose and chin spit slick. He looked down at Louis and smirked, thumb catching on a stray bead of come on Louis' spent dick and licking it into his mouth.

He looked awfully pleased with himself, which always made Louis want to wreck him, a plan already brewing in his head as he smirked back and tossed the lube at his chest, eyebrows rising in challenge.

Louis shuddered as a slick finger teased his entrance before sliding in, and Harry's fingers were so thick, _fuck_ , just one already had Louis bucking his hips. Harry's mouth travelled over Louis' torso and stomach, biting and licking his hipbones before adding a second finger just as he sucked the head of Louis' oversensitive dick into his mouth and Louis could cry, really, he could start sobbing from the feeling of it, but his cock was filling up alarmingly fast anyway, the burn of Harry's fingers inside him just enough to be pleasurable, pressing relentlessly against his prostate while his tongue worked magic on Louis' head. Soon enough he was adding a third finger, and Louis was almost wheezing at this point, grabbing at Harry's hair, lying there and just taking it to lure Harry into a false sense of security.

"Haz. Harry, I'm ready,  _off_." Harry complied, slipping his fingers out of Louis as gently as he could. Louis put his plan in action and flipped them, reaching for Harry's wrists and dragging them up his body before Harry could protest. "Hold onto the headboard." Louis concentrated on making his voice firm. Harry looked puzzled but complied, both hands gripping the lower rail of his iron headboard. "Good boy. Now, I'm going to ride you," Harry groaned and Louis could feel his cock twitching where it was nestled against his bum. "but if you let go of the headboard, I'll stop. If you move too much, I'll stop. And then you'll have to finish alone. Do you understand?" 

Harry looked puzzled for a moment before realisation seemed to dawn on him. He nodded eagerly, readjusting his grip on the headboard as if to reassure Louis that he was going to behave, and just watched as Louis rolled a condom on him before slicking him up.

"Do you like my arse, Haz?" Harry only nodded again, head moving so emphatically Louis felt his own neck twinge in sympathy. "Use your words."

"I love it. I love your arse, Lou, best I've ever seen. I love it."

"Well, since you're so fond of it, I'll let you watch it." He dismounted Harry then, turning around before straddling him once again. Harry made a desperate sound low in his throat as Louis adjusted himself until the head of Harry's dick was a point of pressure against his entrance, not quite inside him yet, and looked over his shoulder to see Harry's gaze fixed on where they were almost connected, biceps bulging with the effort of restraining himself from snapping his hips up and joining them. "Do you like the view, Haz?" 

This time all that he managed was a hoarse "Yeah-" before he cut himself off, groaning loudly as Louis started to sink down slowly, inch by inch, until their balls touched. Harry'd prepped him well but it was still a stretch, Louis taking several deep breaths before daring to look over his shoulder again. 

Harry looked delicious, hair in disarray, sweat beading on his forehead as he alternated between looking at where they were joined and throwing his head back against the pillow like he couldn't quite believe this was happening, but otherwise staying obediently still, taking Louis' orders better than Louis himself had expected him to.

"God, Harry, you're so  _big_. So big inside of me." He started to rotate his hips in small orbits at first, feeling how Harry's dick shifted inside of him, _fuck_ , Louis was so full. He adjusted his legs so that he had some leverage on the balls of his feet and pulled off until Harry's dick was barely in and then sank down again, and he felt Harry's thighs twitch under his hand. He looked over his shoulder again, locking eyes with Harry while he pushed up one more time and let go, sinking down fast on Harry's dick and making them both moan at the sensation. "Yeah?"

Harry nodded desperately, and they were both losing their words fast, so Louis stopped teasing and started bouncing on Harry's cock. He didn't build up to it, his strong thighs and riding technique helping him set a brutal pace from the start. Harry's moans were getting deeper and deeper, hips snapping up minutely even though he had no leverage with his legs flat on the bed, like he just couldn't help himself, and it was hot,  _god_ , it was so hot, the sounds he made.

"Lou." He grunted, desperate, balls drawn tight against his body, and Louis knew he was close.

"Don't come before I do, Harry." He panted but didn't let up his pace, and Harry whined and screwed his eyes shut like it pained him to hold back. Louis leaned back, hands on Harry's laurel tattoos, and the change in angle had Harry's dick nailing into his prostate with each movement, and it was so fucking good Louis might just come like this, bouncing on Harry's big cock, the delicious sounds he was making the only thing Louis could hear. Louis changed his pace, bounces shorter and faster and that was it, he was gone, crying out and spilling over his tummy and on his and Harry's legs as his cock swayed with his movements. 

Harry skin was slick with sweat and Louis' hands slipped from their place at Harry's hips, arms giving out with the force of his orgasm. He crashed back on Harry's chest, trying to catch his breath, a tiny whine by his ear bringing him back to earth long enough that he remembered Harry hadn't come yet. 

"You're so good, Haz, I can't believe you waited. Do you want to come? You can let go of the headboard now." Louis was ready to be manhandled again, in too good a headspace after his orgasm to care about anything. Harry's dick was magic like that.

Louis shuddered again as Harry let out a pained groan and gripped Louis' hips in place, feet planting on the mattress to give himself leverage and mouth latching on Louis' neck in a way that was sure to bruise later. He started thrusting up into him frenetically with Louis still sprawled on his back over his torso, grunting desperately as Louis whispered encouragements. 

Harry came for ages, hips still snapping into Louis' without a rhythm until he went boneless. Louis rolled off of him and sprawled out on the bed. He heard more than saw Harry pulling off the condom and padding into his bathroom, coming back with a handful of baby wipes and gently cleaning Louis up before tossing them somewhere out of Louis' field of vision and sprawling next to him. Louis opened his eyes to see the pleased, cocky expression back on Harry's face. Was Louis going to have to tie him up to wipe that smug look off his face or something?

"What?"

"I can't believe you came just from riding my dick." He said, dimples on show, hand tracing idle patterns on Louis' body.

"Hmm. And you get off on being edged. We're quite the pair. A safeword is in order next time." Harry continued to smirk at him, not an ounce of shame in his expression. "You're kinky as fuck, aren't you, Harry? I feel like I'm just skimming the surface here."

"Maybe, maybe not. Nothing too outrageous. Does that bother you?"

" _Bother me_? Oh, Harold. We're going to have _so_ much fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, ending on a happy note for once! haha (or should I say, a sexy note? *ba dum tiss*)
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://leavingonatrain.tumblr.com/post/119151905450/leavingonatrain-fic-one-for-luck-by)


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, fair warning: this chapter contains a liiiiittle bit of drunken snogging Zerrie (just a tiny bit though) and recreational drug use (weed). If you’re uncomfortable with either subject hit me up on the comments section and I’ll summarize the chapter for you.

 “Oi, _Lionel_ , ease up on the curry, will ya? I’ve got a three hour flight right next to you tomorrow.” The other three groaned in unison while Liam ignored Louis and continued to stuff his mouth full.

“I can handle my curry just fine, thank you. Let’s not remember what happened to you last time we were in Mexico, though.” Louis’ ears turned pink while Zayn paused with a forkful halfway to his mouth and pushed his plate aside with a queasy look. Louis could relate, the war flashbacks of his two days stranded in a toilet prevented him from being too adventurous with new food till this day.

“What, what happened?” Niall looked at the three of them curiously while Harry only continued to try and steal bits of Louis’ chicken, legs pressed together under the coffee table on Louis and Zayn’s flat.

“Nothing. Louis is too delicate for Mexican food, is all. On a more pleasant note,“ he spoke over Louis’ indignant squeak, “first qualifier of the season! How are you feeling, boys?”

“Nervous as fuck, of course, how do you think I’m feeling?” Louis, Liam and the rest of the showjumping delegation would fly to Helsinki for the first qualifier of the FEI World Cup. He didn’t intend to participate in enough qualifiers to actually have a shot at the cup, but Louis always got nervous before a competition anyway.

“Don’t worry, yeah? You’re the best, it’s gonna be fine.” Harry said, biting Louis’ shoulder before laying his head on it. Louis could hear gagging noises from the rest of the boys, but he ignored them in favour of reaching for Harry’s hand and squeezing.

“Thanks, Haz. You’re gonna be great too, but I don’t know how you’re so calm. Especially since you’re gonna compete to win.” The World Cup’s first qualifier for dressage would be three days after Louis’, in Lyon, which meant that he and Harry would not see each other until Halloween. Louis tried not to be anxious, he was sure this time they wouldn’t go the whole week without speaking.

“You know, I still don’t understand the point of attending _some_ qualifiers but not enough to actually give you a shot at winning the World Cup, Lou.” Niall quipped from the sofa, eyeing Zayn’s discarded dinner unsubtly. He was quite excited to go to Lyon as part of the dressage delegation, where, according to him, he would meet up with the French woman he'd met when they were in Caen for the World Equestrian Games back in August.

“Well, you travel a lot with the dressage team, yeah? What, ten competitions a year, more or less?” Niall nodded at him, Liam and Zayn hunched together on the other end of the sofa, laughing over something on Liam’s phone and oblivious to the other three. _Jeez_ , and he and Harry were the flirty teenagers? “Showjumping has a _lot_ more competitions going on simultaneously than eventing and dressage. If I was to try for first place in all of them I would spend more weeks away competing than training. And I have to train, the ultimate goal is the Olympics, for all of us.”

“Okay, but if you don’t have enough time for all of the qualifiers, why participate at all?”

“To stay relevant.” Harry said from besides him, stretching his socked feet on the carpet. “I get it, yeah. I don’t have time to attend the British Nationals qualifiers this year, but I’m still going to present at the final in july at Hickstead even though those points alone won’t get me to win anything. But the judges will see my performance and hopefully be impressed, journalists will write about it, etc.”

“Exactly, Haz. At this point in time it's more important for me to concentrate on training for the Senior Championship and the Olympics, but I can’t exactly vanish like I did when I was training for the WEG, I still have to show my face on major events now and again if I want to, as Harry said, stay relevant. But I’ll try for first place in the Nations Cup, Ni. It’s after the Senior Championships so I’ll have more time to prepare. Plus, I’m pretty sure the judges are going to be the ones who’ll be picked for the Olympics, and I wanna see their judging style.” Louis smirked. He’d got the information from Simon, which meant it was probably acquired through a lot of expensive bourbon and mutual arse kissing in the first place and couldn’t be accounted as 100% legitimate, but Louis had nothing to lose in scoping them out. Be prepared, and all that.

“Ok, I think I get it. Wow, this is some major war strategy, lads. And here I thought it was just doing some funny dances and jumping around.” Niall laughed, getting up. “Anyone want another beer?”

Niall was ignored, as Liam and Zayn were still giggling at whatever nonsense was on the phone and Harry took the opportunity to topple Louis over and snog him on the carpet. He shrugged and headed for the kitchen to get one for himself, unfazed.

“We’ll text each other through the week, yeah?” Harry whispered, nipping on his jaw.

“Of course we will.” They smiled against each other’s mouths, so close together Louis’ eyes were crossing. “Then we’ll come home and have marathon sex. I love Darcy, but I much prefer riding you.”

Harry’s barked laugh was incredibly loud with him so close to Louis’ ear. Louis didn’t mind it one bit.

***

Louis led Darcy out of the competition paddock, having just finished his third and final act, heart still hammering in his chest in beat with the cheers he was receiving. His set of jumps went almost perfectly, Darcy only knocking on one of the higher bars in the last tricky sequence of jumps. He had cause to be optimistic, yeah, he’d seen a lot of competitors send bars flying today. He dismounted Darcy at the back area, petting and congratulating her while Liam and Stan, his favourite horse groom, came to congratulate him.

Liam handed him his phone with a smirk. He had been texting Harry until the very last minute before he had to go in, Harry sending him silly faces and lame knock-knock jokes to try and calm his nerves. He didn’t unlock his phone yet, though, knew that Harry would ask for his score, so he just held onto it with one hand, clutched Darcy’s trimmed horsehair with the other and stayed very, very still as the narrator’s voice boomed over them.

He was speaking in Finnish, so Louis trained his eyes on the electronic panel closer to him. He’d made it in 67.30 seconds with four penalties. He didn’t remember the other jumper’s numbers, but he was pretty sure he was in pole position right now. If the three remaining riders to jump after him didn’t best his numbers, he’d finish number one.

The wait seemed interminable backstage, but it was a different kind of nervous than when he still hadn’t jumped, now that his numbers were defined he knew what to hope for. The three of them quietly cheered when one of the competition favourites knocked down a  bar, earning herself four penalties right on the first few jumps, and received dirty looks from the woman’s team who was hanging nearby. They laughed guiltily, eyes on the screen, refraining from celebrating again when she knocked another one and earned four more penalties.

By the time the last jumper was doing his last lap, Louis knew he’d won, but still he waited until he saw his name on top of the panel, 20 points by his name, to cheer, jumping in Liam’s arms and being hauled around by a very excitable Paul.

It wasn’t until he was heading back to the stables, twin ribbons pinned to Darcy and his jacket lapel, that he remembered to check his phone, opening a string of texts that started with a close up photo of Harry’s smiling cheek and went on for several texts.

_good luck dimple for ya!!!_

_are u out on the paddock yet??_

_let me know the results ASAP!!_

_wait I found a livestream yesss_

_ha I see you_

_jesus you look so sexy in these clothes I’m hard_

_I wanna dick you while you’re wearing just the jacket, gloves and riding crop can we make it happen_

_you barely touched the bar!! it didn’t even fall down!! why 4 penalties?? unfair_

_okay I’m no expert in showjumping but that was a pretty flawless set right there_

_have you got ur phone back yet??_

_ha the girl from Sweden knocked down two bars looooserr_

_YOU WOOOOOOOOOONNNNNN!!! FIRST PLACE! 20 POINTS!!_

_that is an ugly ribbon but it looks good on you_

_we can add it to the dicking ensemble_

_I already miss u_

That wonderful, _wonderful_ boy.

***

“Can you hurry up, sir, please? I’m really in a hurry, it’s urgent.”

Louis’ cab breezed past the streets of London as fast as it could. Harry had just texted him saying he was going to be the third presenting, which, _fuck_ , Louis had been counting on him being at least the tenth. He’d practically ran from the plane straight to the train station and then to a cab, fresh off of Finland, to catch Harry’s final round, which was happening in Lyon right now.

He rung Zayn, remembering that today was the 31th and they were supposed to move into their new flat near the training centre tomorrow, so he was probably home packing.

“Hey. You need picking up?”

“No, I’m on my way home. Listen. If you can get a channel or a livestream showing Harry’s competition by the time I walk through the door I’ll do the dishes for a month.”

“What dishes? We never cook. You’ll unpack the entire move before the Halloween party.”

“Deal. Now, get on it, I’m 15 minutes away.”

***

Louis sprinted up the stairs, carrying his luggage bridal style and hoping he didn’t trip and fall down, since he couldn’t see his feet. His keys were stashed in a dark, deep corner of his bag, but the door was ajar when he got to their floor, bless Zayn.

He burst through the door and then did trip, crashing down over a moving box Zayn had left in the corridor.

“ _Fuck_! Zayn?? Zayn, is it on??? Did I miss it??” His knee was hurting and his blood was pumping so fast from his sprint up the stairs he could hear it rushing in his ears, but he scrambled up, leaving the door open and his bag thrown on the corridor.

Zayn’s computer, plugged on their TV, was showing a female competitor trotting around. “He’s next, relax, you’re on time. Sit down, jesus, you look like you’re about to have a coronary.” Zayn chuckled to himself, getting up to close their front door while Louis sat down on their sofa, pulling off his coat and boots. “Why is it so important that you watch it, anyway? It’s just a qualifier.”

“He watched mine.” was all Louis offered, fishing his phone out of his coat and snapping a picture of his TV to send it to Harry, along with wishes for good luck and a promise of a sexy surprise if Harry finished first.

Which he did, it turned out. Now Louis would have to unpack the entire move to their new flat by himself _and_ think of a sexy surprise.

***

The next day, Louis was just finishing stacking pots on the cupboard, Zayn busy rolling a joint in their new kitchen, when the doorbell rang. The boys were the only ones who had the new address, but it could also be their landlord, so Louis motioned for Zayn to hide the weed before he opened the door.

It was only Liam, though, so Zayn pulled their weed tupperware back out of the cupboard while Louis got the last of the “kitchen stuff” boxes from the corridor and went about organizing it.

“Is that…? Jesus, lads, it’s two in the afternoon.”

“First successfully passed doping test of the season, Li, you know what that means.” Zayn remarked, tongue slipping out as he concentrated on rolling another perfect joint. “Plus, we’re tired from the move.” Louis snorted loudly at that. Most of the boxes they’d brought to the new flat were Louis’ homeware stuff from his last apartment before moving in with Zayn, which he’d never bothered to unpack since Zayn already owned pots, dishes, kettle, toaster and everything else they needed. And with Louis handling the unpacking as per their agreement, all Zayn had to do was help haul them to and from the car. Tired, _right_.

“And why was I not invited to the post-doping-exam MJ party?” Louis snorted again. Those boys were on a roll with the bullshit today.

“You haven’t partaken in a post-doping-exam MJ party in, what, two years?”

“Maybe three.” Zayn quipped besides him.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have to invite me.” Liam quipped haughtily, looking around their kitchen. “We can do it tomorrow at the new house since I’m sure you don’t have cling film here, and Harry and Niall can join. You certainly have enough for all of us.” He said, eyeing their Tupperware disapprovingly, and leave it to Liam to comment on the amount of weed they had after he’d just asked to join.

“Okay. First off, why would we need cling film? Second, I’m not sure Harry and Niall would want to join, and third, did Harry arrive at your new place already?” He’d read Harry’s text telling him he was boarding the plane home last night, merely hours after he’d won the qualifier. Louis assumed he’d just fallen into bed the second he got home.

“Yeah, he brought all his boxes this morning. _Oh_ , which reminds me, he said to tell you he forgot his charger in Lyon but he’ll see you later for the party. And Niall sent you this.” He handed him a bag which Louis knew contained the costume he was supposed to wear for the training centre’s Halloween party later tonight.  He’d somehow been roped into participating in the group fancy dress contest. Must be all the time Niall had been spending with Liam, the puppy dog eyes were an acquired skill for sure. Louis deposited the bag on the counter and went to finish unpacking. “You need cling film because of this.” He said, pointing to the automatic smoke alarm over their heads.

“Shit, I didn’t even notice it. Do you think it works?” Zayn mumbled contemplatively. The smoke alarm system in their London flat was ancient and probably broken. They never complained about it, since they never cooked anyway. “What would we do with the cling film, though?”

“Wrap around it so it doesn’t pick up the smoke.” Liam said calmly, eyebrows rising when the two boys stared at him in disbelief. “What? I lived in uni halls.”

And, yeah, sometimes their difference in education made itself known in the most random ways. By the time Liam was old enough to be in uni, Louis and Zayn were already training full time. Louis wouldn’t change it for the world, especially since his A levels score would never get him into a good university, but he sometimes wondered what the experience would’ve been like. He had a hunch he would be the person to know to wrap cling film around the smoke alarm before smoking a joint inside the uni halls of residence, too.

“Shit, Lou, do we have cling film?”

“Nope, no cling film. Alright, Payno, we’ll bring this party to your house tomorrow. If Harry and Niall turn out to be scandalised by the illicit drug use you’ll be the one to blame.”

He folds down the last cardboard box, glad to be done, and pulls his supposed costume out of the bag. He’s met with a lot of green fabric, a triangular hat with a small red feather glued to it falling to the floor. “Peter Pan. Alright.” For all of Niall’s refusal to tell him what they would be dressed as, he was sure it was going to be something ridiculous like, say, the powerpuff girls. Not that he’d object to being a powerpuff girl on a normal day, but he’d rather not do it to a party attended by his bosses. Peter Pan he could do, even with the green leggings.

“Is that your costume for the fancy dress party? Sick.” Zayn said, stashing their weed Tupperware back in the fridge.

“Yeah, nice, Lou. You two never dress up for Halloween. What are you going as, Z?”

Liam turned to Zayn, and Louis had to bite his smile at his friend’s unease. He knew Zayn hadn’t prepared a costume and it honestly shouldn’t be this amusing to watch him squirm under Liam’s earnest stare. “It’s, uh, a surprise.” Oh, Zayn was _so fucking whipped_.

“Oh. Okay, then, nice! I still have a couple of errands to run. See you two later, then?” He headed for the door, the other two saying their goodbyes. Louis waited until the door clicked shut to turn to Zayn with a shit eating grin.

“Don’t even fucking start.” Zayn mumbled, pulling his phone out of his trousers.

“Oh, but you are _so fucked_. Where are you gonna get a costume? The party is in six hours and, I don’t know if you noticed, but we live in ‘middle-of-nowhere-shire’ now.”

“I'll figure something out.”

***

Louis killed the engine of his car in front of Harry, Niall and Liam’s new house. It was a victorian terraced house, much like the one he, Liam and Zayn had rented when they were training for the last Olympics, except it looked larger and in a better state of conservation. He hopped out, adjusting his green leggings discreetly (did they need to be _this_ tight? Louis felt like his junk couldn't breathe.) and made his way up the three steps to knock on the door.

Harry opened it and Louis _stared_ , mouth hanging open. He looked fucking delectable dressed as Captain Hook, a flowing white silk blouse almost completely unbuttoned, an embroidered red and black jacket over it complemented by an abundance of jewellery on his neck and fingers and wa _s that an earring on his left ear?_ Skin tight black jeans and heeled boots completed the ensemble. The only part of his outfit that actually drove the point home that it was in fact a costume and not something he would wear on a night out was his blood red pirate hat with a big purple feather on top.

“Figured you'd be hook, you've got the hair for it.” Louis smiled, stepping inside and hugging him tight, fingers curling on said hair, now so long it brushed his shoulders. “Hi. Missed you.”

“Hi. Missed you too.” Harry mumbled on the skin of his neck, squeezing tighter. “Did you get my message about my missing charger?”

“Yeah, I did. It’s fine, I’d just assumed you’d passed out once you got home.”

“I did, but then I woke up at 5 am freezing my arse off. I think the landlord cut the heating off because I was supposed to have emptied the flat yesterday, the wanker. So I just finished packing and brought all my stuff here. None of the furniture was mine anyway.”

“You could’ve called me to help, mine and Zayn’s move was just some electronics and kitchen utensils, really.”

“You guys are not handing in the flat in London, right? God, that was a smart decision. My back is fried. And I didn’t have how to contact you, remember? No phone.”

“Poor baby.” Louis mumbled, running his hands through the spot on Harry’s back that he knew bothered him sometimes. “We can make your sexy surprise a hour long massage, what do you think?”

“I am very much on board.” Harry smiled against his neck.

Louis saw a flash of black crossing the hall, and let go of Harry to follow it. “What was that?”

“Liam as batman.” Harry answered distractedly, gaze now fixed on Louis’ backside as he followed him into the living room. "I figured you'd be peter pan. You can certainly pull off the tights." He smirked, parroting Louis’ comment from earlier and reaching out to pinch his bum.

"They're leggings." Louis retorted automatically, peering into the kitchen to spot a Liam, decked out in full batman attire, staring at the fridge.

"Sure.” Harry agreed easily, gaze still fixed on Louis’ arse. It got Louis a little hot under the collar, they hadn't seen each other in over a week after all, but they had to leave for the party soon and Louis couldn't afford to pop a boner in these clothes. “Niall mentioned an afterparty earlier. You going?”

“At Jesy’s? Fuck yeah I’m going. You coming along too, curly, no choice in it. It’s a bit of a tradition, really, all of centre staff under forty is going to be there, plus a shitload of people I don’t have a clue how the girls know, given the size of this village. But it’s always a blast, good ol’ house party.” He grinned at Harry, so handsome in his Captain Hook costume. It hit him that they could pass as a couple’s costume with him as Peter Pan, and _did Niall set them up with the whole ‘group costume contest’_? “Nialler!!!”

“Coming!!” He shouted back, and Louis followed the thudding sound of someone running down the stairs to the hall. He never got to say his piece, though, because Niall didn't set them up.

No, Niall was dressed as fucking _Thinkerbell_ , tight green strapless dress and green flats complete with a wand and fairy wings. Louis was speechless.

“Did you shave your legs?” Harry’s amused voice boomed from besides him, and Louis looked down to notice that he did, in fact, shave his legs. Talk about commitment to the character.

“Smashing, uh?” He did a little twirl, the pointy ends of his dress flying. “You’re fucking top notch, too, lads. We are so gonna win this thing.”

***

They did, in fact, win the thing. More than halfway through the party, Louis was taking a picture with Harry and Niall, the three of them holding onto their tiny trophy, when he spotted Liam across the room talking to Sophia – who was absolutely stunning as Audrey Hepburn in breakfast at Tiffany's, high bun, pearls and black gloves and cocktail dress, Louis was gay but he had eyes. He couldn't really blame Liam for pulling her if that's what he was trying to do. Didn't look like it from their body language, but Liam was a terrible flirt, so god only knew.

He reached for his phone inside Harry's back pocket ( _What_? His costume didn't have any) and typed a " _u still coming?"_ to Zayn. He answered " _already at the girl’s_ " right away. Louis shoved his mobile back in Harry's pocket, getting in a little bum squeeze while he was at it, and they mingled for a while longer before he started to notice the young people in the room covertly inching for the exit. Excitement bubbled up his stomach, it'd been a while since he'd been to a good house party. He was about done with this party, too, full of older coworkers and board members, so he started to gather the boys to go (and by that he meant finding Niall, he knew where Liam was and Harry hadn't left his side the whole evening).

The four of them ended up hitching a ride with Sophia and her friend since they'd all been drinking, Louis bullied into being the one who had to sit on someone's lap (He was 5'9, for fucks sake, he was _not_ the smallest), so he punished Harry by wriggling around all the way to Jesy's house, watching in satisfaction as he flushed and swelled against his bum.

The house was packed by the time they arrived and it wasn't even midnight, sound and people spilling into the garden. Jade, one of Jesy’s housemates, welcomed them at the door, saying “Zayn’s already here!” over the music and pointing to where Perry was talking to a girl with a square black bob haircut who had her back to them. Louis’ eyebrows scrunched together until the ‘girl’ turned around and Louis’ hand flew to his mouth in surprise.

It was Zayn, alright, but Louis could barely tell under all the makeup, wearing an untucked white shirt and black jeans, a square black bob with a heavy fringe wig.

"Jesus, Zayn looks just like a girl." Liam said, a dumbfounded expression on his face, jaw slack like he forgot to close it.

"A pretty hot girl, too. I'd hit that." Niall said, and, yeah, Zayn's slim frame and what was sure to be a stuffed bra underneath his shirt were really selling the look. Louis was reluctantly impressed. He’d never seen Zayn in girl’s clothes and makeup before, but _boy_ could he pull it off.

"If I knew we could just crossdress I wouldn't be Captain Hook." Harry pouted, and Louis smiled and pointedly ignored the flare of heat in his belly at the thought of Harry in girl's clothing.

"He's not though. He's Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction." Louis supplied. It was one of Zayn's favourite films, and an easy costume to put together last minute. He was pretty sure the black wig was from Perrie's Cleopatra costume Louis saw on instagram last halloween, and the white shirt and black slacks could have been from anyone's closet, really. Zayn could work with limited resources, Louis would give him that.

"Who?" Liam asked, not even looking in Louis' direction. He was still staring at Zayn like he was unable to look away, and Louis had to bite the inside of his mouth not to laugh.

"Uma Thurman’s character."

Zayn spotted them and made his excuses to Perrie, coming over to them, “Hey, lads! Wow, look at you! Sick costumes!”

“Look at _you_ , you mean. Way to go, Mia Wallace.” Zayn smiled, pleased that Louis got the reference (like he _wouldn’t_. For the amount of times Zayn’d made him watch that film over the years Louis could probably recite entire dialogues from memory).

“Actually I'm her twin sister Veronica Wallace. I just feel like Veronica is a name that suits me. Don’t you think, Liam?” He turned to Liam suddenly, who still hadn't had time to compose himself, the poor thing, and batted his abnormally-long-and-probably-false eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah. Veronica suits you.” They stared at each other for a beat, Liam's blush hidden by his batman mask, until Niall interrupted them, arm out and posed for a selfie.

“Let’s take a picture, lads! We’re all smashing, this deserves to be remembered.”

They got closer together to get on the frame, three Disney magic creatures, a DC comics super hero and a Quentin Tarantino character making for one diverse selfie, then Niall handed his phone to Sophia to snap a full body picture of them. Louis could sense Zayn tensing when he noticed her presence, so he threw a supporting arm around him. Harry seemed to notice too and embraced him from the other side, and Louis was just so fucking grateful for him.

They took the picture and scattered, Harry and him going for the kitchen to find drinks while Zayn went back to Perrie and Liam and Niall stayed chatting to Sophia, her friend and Jade. There was a vast selection of drinks to choose from, and he and Harry had fun making wild cocktails until Louis felt a little unsteady on his feet and a lot giggly, and he decided to stop drinking before he was too drunk to properly enjoy the fact that he and Harry were in the same country again once they got home. They chatted with other members of their teams, Harry disappearing with a ginger named Ed at some point, and Louis caught sight of Sophia again and remembered Zayn, whom he hadn't seen since they'd arrived.

He exited the house into the back garden, and it was a cold night but he was just the right amount of drunk not to feel it, and Niall crashed into him immediately, shouting about how he was having the time of his life, a half empty bottle of Patrón in one hand and his fairy wand in the other. Louis was surprised he hadn’t lost it yet considering his wings were torn and bits of it were missing, but he gently pried the bottle out of Niall’s hand (he didn't feel like taking anyone to the emergency room tonight, thank you very much) and indulged his garbled attempts at conversation until Liam came up to them, sans batman mask, a sour expression on his face.

“I just saw Zayn snogging Perrie.” _What?_

“You’re probably mistaking him for someone else.” Louis replied easily, because in all the decades he’d known Zayn he never, not even when they were teenagers, kissed a girl. He’d always known, been what gave Louis strength to accept himself when he was struggling with his own sexuality.

“Go see for yourself and come back to me, then. They’re in the upstairs corridor.”

And Louis passed a drunken Niall for Liam to support because he _had_ to see it for himself, knew Liam wouldn't lie but still couldn't bring himself to believe it. He passed the living room, Harry and his mate Ed singing while the ginger played a guitar, surrounded by people, and any other time he’d stop immediately in the hopes of hearing Harry sing, but Zayn was supposedly kissing a girl and Louis had to see _that_ first. He climbed the stairs, dodging couples snogging on the steps, and stopped in his tracks when he got to the upper landing because that _was_ Zayn kissing a girl, wasn’t it? He’d lost the stuffed bra, shirt hanging open as Perrie ran her hands over his chest, and his wig was gone too, his hair falling off to the shaved off side of his head, and, most importantly, _they were full on snogging. What the hell._ Louis dazedly retreated, not stopping until he was back at Liam’s side in the back garden, Niall passed out on a chair nearby.

“Shit, you’re right.” Louis was angry and feeling betrayed, even though he knew he had no real reason to be. It was probably the booze messing with his feelings right now, but weren’t they supposed to be best friends? Tell each other everything?

“Of course I’m right, I wouldn’t lie.” Liam said defensively. Such a puppy dog. “Do you reckon he’s bisexual now?”

“I don’t know. Three minutes ago I’d swear on my life Zayn would never snog a girl, so there’s that. But he could be, yeah. I’ve seen people have this kind of revelation much later in life, so he could’ve very well been thinking about it and never told me. _Shit_. I wish my friends would tell me this kind of thing.” He added bitterly, too stunned to be subtle about it around Liam anymore.

“Maybe they’re just scared saying it out loud is going to make it real, though.” Liam added tentatively, and _fuck it_ , Louis was tired of walking on eggshells around him. Time for some ‘Tommo’s hard truths’.

“If they want it, it’s real whether they tell me about it or not, Liam. They’re not fooling anyone, not even themselves, by pretending that if they don’t talk about their wish to suck cock, it will just fade away!” He snapped, irritated. Liam looked at him, stunned, and Louis regretted it immediately, knew it wasn't at Liam he was mad. It wasn't even at Zayn, really. _Shit_. He needed to sober up before he did some irreparable damage. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.” He mumbled, not meeting Liam’s eyes, and hastily retreated back into the house.

He entered the makeshift dancefloor, packed with bodies, and lost himself in the music, swaying with his eyes closed, arm pulled over his head as he moved his hips to and fro in time with the beat. After some time he felt a large, familiar hand circle his waist and pull him into a large, familiar body. He let his head drop on Harry’s shoulders and circled his arms over his neck, his bum grinding purposefully on Harry’s crotch. They danced like that during two full songs until Louis couldn’t ignore the way his hard on was tenting his leggings obscenely, this costume was _so_ impractical. He pulled Harry out of the mass of bodies but he didn’t want to go upstairs to find a room and run into Zayn again, so he led them to the front of the house instead. He thought he'd seen some conveniently placed bushes along the side of the semi-detached house, and if all else failed, Harry’s house was only twenty houses down. The perks of a small village, he supposed.

The side of the house was dark, empty and hidden from view by the giant bushes Louis'd seen earlier, so, really, it wasn't gonna get better than that. And anyone who decided to go from the front to the back and vice-versa by the side of the house, instead of going inside like a normal person, was just gonna have to deal. Louis was too drunk and horny to give a fuck.

They kissed desperately, Louis swallowing Harry’s whispers of ‘Louis’ and ‘anyone could walk by’ as he undid Harry’s jeans and pulled his cock out without preamble. Harry moaned and lost his words completely, leaning his elbows on the outside of the house for support and caging Louis in between them as Louis wanked him expertly. He didn't want to draw it out, knew that it was only hot as long as they didn’t actually get caught by strangers so he was quick and efficient about it, moving his wrist just the way he knew Harry liked best.

Harry didn’t stay passive for long though, hitching Louis’ shirt up and pulling his leggings down until they snapped under his balls and Louis hissed at the sensation and went on his tiptoes, moaning into Harry’s mouth when his hand closed around Louis’ cock and started moving in a matching rhythm. The sounds of the party spilled over from an open window somewhere above them, reminding them of just how close to being seen they were, and Louis could tell that Harry was loving it, the sound of their hands flying over their cocks mingling with someone’s laugh above them.

He spilled into Louis’ hand a moment later, hand never faltering on Louis’ cock even as he rode his own orgasm. Louis was so turned on it hurt, and when Harry brought Louis’ come covered hand to his mouth and sucked it clean while maintaining eye contact Louis lost it, spilling onto Harry’s hand with a moan that was probably too loud for their situation.

Harry licked his own hand clean of Louis’ come too, and Louis whimpered at the indecency of it, slumping back against the house. Harry fixed their clothes before leaning into Louis, and they stayed wrapped together for a while, just breathing each other in.

A loud crash followed by several cheers burst their bubble, Louis jumping slightly at the sound. Right. Party.

"Come on. Time to jump back into the fray. You’re gonna catch a cold if we stay out here much longer." Harry murmured, hands running over Louis’ bare arms, but made no move to disentangle himself from him.

"I’d rather just go home, if that’s okay with you." Louis murmured. Liam was probably mad at him, with reason – Louis’d been a tosser, and he didn't want to deal with it right now.

“Sure, let’s go for it. We don’t even need to say goodbye to anyone.” Louis sometimes forgot how perceptive Harry was. He didn't even mean it as if he wanted Harry to leave the party as well, but now that he was offering... Well, Louis was too selfish to say no.

Harry took off his jacket and draped it over Louis’ shoulder as they made the walk over to his house in contented silence. He’d had plans for how he wanted the night to end, plans that involved massaging Harry, then giving it to him just how he liked it, but Louis felt too drained to follow through with either, and Harry looked no better off, reminding Louis that he’d barely slept ever since his qualifier in Lyon, so they ended up disrobing and snuggling together under Harry’s mountain of a duvet until sleep claimed them.

***

Louis woke up blearily, his mouth tasting like something'd crawled inside it to die, and slipped out of bed, Harry still dead to the world besides him. He put on Harry’s sweatpants that were hung over a chair and padded across the hall to the bathroom, thinking that he was gonna miss Harry’s _en suite_ in his old flat, and eyed the toilet contemplatively. He decided that he wasn't hungover enough that he was gonna need to throw up and went about his morning business as usual, using Harry’s toothbrush, before going down the stairs quietly. He saw Niall’s fairy wand and Liam’s batman mask thrown at the foyer, so they must’d got home at some point. He got further confirmation as he padded into the kitchen and Liam was there, his back to him, munching on toast and looking at his phone.

Louis decided to bite the bullet and go about getting back into Liam’s good graces in the sneakiest way he could think of. He draped himself over Liam’s back, holding onto him like a koala so that he couldn’t shrug Louis off and mumbled, “You’re not mad at me, are you, Payno?”

“Not as mad as I should be, that’s for sure.” was his response. Louis smiled and squeezed him some more, laying a wet smooch right at his cheek for good measure before opening the fridge in search of his and Harry’s breakfast. It was well stocked for three people who'd just moved in yesterday, he thought, drawing a parallel to his and Zayn’s fridge, which contained a lone Tupperware filled with weed.

He grabbed some eggs and butter, depositing them on the counter and going about finding a frying pan. “It’s in that cabinet.” Liam provided helpfully, gaze following Louis as he loaded a pair of bread slices into the toaster and filled the kettle. “So, Zayn is in my room.”

Louis’ eyes went wide as saucers, but he was turned to the cooker as he scrambled the eggs, so he replied, “Really?” in the most unaffected voice he could muster and waited for Liam to elaborate.

“Yeah. I had just woken Niall up so we could come home when he came up to me and asked if he could come with us. I said yes, obviously, but I expected him to sleep on the sofa or summat. Instead he goes upstairs with me, helps me put Niall to bed, and goes all ‘is it okay if I crash at your bed? don’t wanna risk getting vomited on by sleeping with Niall’ and what am I supposed to say to that, really?” Louis could tell Liam was trying for frustrated, but he visibly fell short.

“So he’s upstairs, at your bed, right now?”

“Yeah.”

Louis considered his next words as he loaded two plates on a tray, one with toast for himself and one with eggs on toast for Harry, adding their teas after. He ultimately decided on just going with what he really wanted to say, if Liam was telling him this even after what Louis'd said to him last night was because he wanted an honest answer.

“Why are you not up there with him, then?” Louis quipped, smiling softly at him before making his way out of the kitchen and up the stairs carefully, tray loaded with their breakfast.

Harry was sitting up in the bed, sheets pooled at his waist, eyeing Louis’ discarded costume with a frown. He lit up when he saw Louis at the door though, eyes flicking down to the tray and back up at his face.

"You didn’t leave."

"I did not."

"And you've brought me breakfast in bed."

"I’ve brought you breakfast in bed." Louis parroted from his position in the doorway, nodding.

The smile that blossomed in Harry's face matched his own.

***

Smoke alarms properly covered with cling film, they were all lying together on the living room’s carpet later in the day, two joints being passed around.

“’Post-doping-exam MJ party’ is a lame name, though. We need to change it asap.” Niall mused from his position next to the fireplace. It was only the start of November, probably too early in the season for a fireplace, but Niall had insisted on turning it on, so. They’d turned on the fireplace, which led to them being too warm, which in turn led to them shedding their tops, which, finally, was why Louis was currently sitting with his back against Harry’s chest, their skin sticking together because of the sweat.

Niall got unusually mean and demanding when hungry, cranky or, as Louis was just starting to discover, high. Earlier he’d begged Zayn to go get the weed when Liam told them about it over a late lunch, claiming it was the perfect way to soothe his raging headache. Harry was hesitant at first, saying he hadn't smoked since he'd started competing professionally. Zayn explained that ‘post doping test celebration’ was just a name they invented, since, as they all knew, marijuana only got picked up by doping tests when over 150ng/mls. Harry was familiar with the numbers and in turn explained to Niall that for them to hit that amount they’d have to seriously commit to marijuana use. Louis laughed at that, saying that they only had the mary jane party twice a year and always right after a doping test, which was arguably the farthest they’d ever be from their next doping test. Niall, in turn, just told them to shut up and light up the joint already, he was a vet and his responsibility was to make sure the _horses_ passed the doping tests, not the athletes, so fuck him if he cared what the base level for marijuana testing was.

Like Louis said: mean and demanding. Which was why they were smoking with the windows closed. And the fireplace on. On the 2nd of November. Had Louis said that already? He was a bit high.

Louis tuned back into the conversation at the sound of Harry’s giggles. He loved Harry’s giggles, Harry should giggle all the time. They were still trying to find a substitute name for the occasion, apparently, but Louis couldn’t care less about it, twisting around until he could look at Harry. His pupils were blown and his eyes were red rimmed, the proper stoner look, and Louis found it stupidly attractive, but then again, give him a time when he _didn’t_ find Harry attractive.

“You’re high.” Louis stated, refraining from giggling for all of two seconds. “Am I corrupting you, Harold?” He leaned closer and licked the tip of Harry’s nose, as you do.

“Nothing I'd rather be doing than being corrupted by you, Lou.” He said, licking him back. They burst into giggles again, Louis laughing so hard he slid down Harry’s chest until he was sitting cross-legged between Harry and Zayn. Zayn crawled over to lay his head on Louis’ lap, but Harry just draped his arm across Louis’ legs and went “Nuh-uh.”

“What? I’m his best friend, mate, I think I have priority on the cuddle queue.”

“First class ticket to the cuddle train.” Louis supplied for him, both of them laughing. Harry just stared and maintained his hand possessively draped over Louis’ lap, squeezing his thigh once before patting it possessively. Zayn seemed to get the message, though, crawling over to Liam.

“Li, cuddle me. I need cuddles, and Harry will cut me if I get near Louis.”

“Why don’t you call Perrie to cuddle you, then.” And _oh, snap_ , he’d forgotten how Liam was when high. It was a welcome change if only because Louis was in the mood to watch some drama unfurl, so he wasn't going to intervene at all, sue him. Harry was also watching shamelessly, while Niall apparently had a bad case of early onset munchies and was raiding the fridge in the kitchen, oblivious.

“Nah. I don’t wanna cuddle her. Turns out I’m a strickly dickly guy after all.” He giggled at his own joke, Harry joining in besides him. Louis didn’t laugh because he was pretty sure he’d heard it before on some telly show, and second hand jokes were not funny even when he was high.

“Have you guys tried shotgunning?” Harry quipped, passing his joint over to Zayn. “It’s awesome. Do it.”

Zayn and Liam exchanged looks for a second before shrugging and obeying, Zayn sucking in the smoke from his position laying on the floor while Liam crawled over to him sluggishly, laying on his belly besides Zayn and leaning over him, supported by his elbows. They locked eyes as their heads moved closer, Zayn expelling his smoke almost directly inside Liam’s mouth. Liam exhaled by his nose and didn’t move away, maintaining eye contact for a long second before he was leaning down, kissing Zayn, and Harry moved to take the joint off their hands, like he'd been expecting it, while Louis could only stare in shock, mouth dropping open because _really? That was all it took??_

He turned to Harry, wide eyed, mouthing ‘you’re a genius’ before they erupted in silent giggles, and when Louis looked over again they had their hands in each other’s hair, kiss all tongue now, and Louis was going to look away, he would… Any second now, he was looking away…

The decision was made for him when Zayn moaned low in his throat and Louis’ face scrunched up automatically. _Okay_ , that got weird pretty fast. He looked over to Harry instead, who was still looking, entranced, at Zayn and Liam. His hand dragged over his lap to squeeze his bulge so absentmindedly that Louis bet he wasn't even aware he was doing it, and Louis could see that he was hard, _naughty Harry_ , getting off on watching another couple. Louis was surprisingly not bothered by it, could admit to himself that if it weren’t his childhood best friend and his other best friend, but instead two equally attractive guys, snogging heavily without their shirts on mere feet away from him, he’d be hard as a rock too.

As it was, Harry had to live with one of them and socialize on a pretty regular basis with the other, so Louis dragged him away before it got either too kinky or too awkward, passing an unsuspecting Niall in the kitchen before heading for Harry’s bedroom. He was intent on showing Harry that while watching could be entertaining, the _real_ fun was in participating.

***

Three days later, Louis found himself pondering over his blanket pile as he got ready to pick Harry up. It was as the five of them were sharing pizzas (that they had stuck in the oven themselves, since Sunday nights left them without delivery options – _Oh_ , the woes of living in a small village), that Harry absentmindedly commented that this year would be the first Guy Fawkes night that he'd spend in British soil since he was fifteen.

Thus had been born Louis’ plan of taking him to a traditional bonfire night – fireworks, barbecue and cheap mulled wine included, obviously. He’d searched online for the perfect event in the Buckinghamshire area, his options limited by the fact that they were training both on the day of the bonfire and on the day after, so Louis couldn’t take him far away to one of the events he knew were guaranteed to be enjoyable. He’d settled for the show in a quaint little village on top of the Chilterns that he’d visited when scoping out the House of Retirement for Horses nearby, back when he’d thought that Cella would recover from her injuries enough for at least retirement. He hoped they wouldn’t have any unpleasant encounters with small village homophobes, but also knew he wouldn’t let his fear of discrimination hinder his enjoyment of his time with Harry.

He decided on only two big, thick blankets, not wanting them to be cold, but not wanting them to have to haul a pile of blankets around all evening either. He texted “ _Bundle up!! I’m leaving now!_ ”, carrying the two chosen blankets down the one flight of stairs of his flat complex (and really, could it be called a flat complex when it was only two floors and there were only ten flats?) to his car. They’d snuck out of work early and went to their respective houses to shower and get ready. Louis hadn’t told Harry where he was taking him, even though he knew it wouldn’t be much of a surprise what they were doing, given the date.

He parked in front of Harry’s house and honked, wondering idly if he should’ve brought him flowers. They hadn’t used the word “date”, but Louis was not about to try and fool himself that it wasn’t one. He was taking Harry to a social activity in public, where they would interact together, as a couple. It was a date. It didn’t matter if Louis wanted to call it that or not. What mattered was that he wanted to take Harry to celebrate a traditional British holiday in hopes of making him happy. _It was a date_. There were no flowers but Louis could at least be a gentleman about it, so he hopped off the driver’s side and scurried to the passenger side, waiting to hold the door open for his date.

Harry appeared on the door, dimple popping while he bit over his lip like he already couldn’t contain his smile. Louis smiled back, waiting as Harry locked the house and approached Louis’ car.

“Hi. You look handsome.” Louis spared a glance to his outfit, like he hadn’t agonized over it for hours, and shrugged.

“You look handsome too.” Harry had taken his instructions for warm clothing to boot, a heavy wool coat over his sweater and a beanie, his curls escaping over the side and bottom of it. He tugged on one, biting his lip, and slid his hand over his neck to tug Harry into him. They kissed sweetly, lips fitting over each other, before Louis pulled back to open the door of his car. Harry smiled and slid inside, pulling on his seatbelt as Louis went around the other side.

They got to the fields half an hour before the start of the fireworks show, just as the sky was turning crimson and people were starting to gather around the unlit bonfire. He paid for their tickets and barbecue skewers and mulled wine mugs, silencing Harry with an over the top scowl every time he dared to complain about Louis paying for everything. They ate their food and chatted with the villagers, watching the children throw fun snaps at each other’s feet and scuttle away, delighted or frightened depending on the age. Louis covertly bought a package of it and had the time of his life chasing Harry around the grass, throwing several in his direction and whooping when they hit hard enough to snap against his skin, leaving Harry’s hand and face speckled with black dust by the time he ran out of ammo. Harry charged for him then, and Louis was fast, but Harry’s legs were longer and he eventually caught up to him, tackling him to the ground and tickling him until Louis was gasping for mercy.

They returned to the festival area hand in hand when it was announced that the bonfire would be lit, finding a spot that wasn't too far from the action but not in the middle of the crowd either, and Louis spread one of the blankets he’d tucked into his messenger bag on the cold grass, sitting in the middle of Harry’s legs with his back against Harry’s chest, and draped the other, heavier blanket over their laps, one hand entwining with Harry’s as they looked at the fire spreading through the wood, the sunset over the Chilterns a tragically beautiful backdrop to the display.

Louis remembered once seeing a painting of two people connected by skin and string like some sort of abstract siamese puppets. He'd found it bizarre at the time, one of those artsy fartsy pieces that relied too much on shock value. Sitting against Harry as they watched the fireworks exploding over the bonfire, he could finally understand it. He could feel the strings that bounded their skin together weaving tighter, tying them around each other in a knot that couldn't be undone, and it _should_ scare him, how much of him was already irreversibly tangled in Harry.

Instead he burrowed further into Harry's warmth and watched the fire burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awn, aren’t they the cutest. I’m not gonna tell you what to expect for the next chapter this time though, it’s a _surprise_!
> 
> (That chapter got too long for another proper smut scene! Noooo! I’ll make it up to you on the next one! ;)
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://leavingonatrain.tumblr.com/post/119754644430/leavingonatrain-fic-one-for-luck-by)


	5. Chapter Five

Time passed in a flurry, as it often did when training was this gruelling and demanding. Louis blinked and Christmas decorations had sprouted left and centre, on the streets of the village, on the main building of the training centre and on the Christmas tree Harry, Niall and Liam'd set up at their house. Even his and Zayn's flat got a tiny tree that they put on the windowsill, not that they'd been living there much. On the meagre amount of waking time that Louis spent off his horse, he was at the boy's house for dinner, and then he either dragged himself back to his flat or he crashed at Harry's bed.

Any other year, that would've been around the time where Louis said goodbye to whoever he was shagging and dove headfirst into his training, but Harry turned out to be a relief from his stressful routine – making him tea, cracking awful jokes and just generally lifting Louis' spirits. Louis made sure to show his appreciation by giving lots of massages (He even asked the centre physiotherapist for tips) and running him baths with all the frilly stuff he liked ( _Who even named them 'bath bombs'? That sounded unsafe)._

On the weekdays, they didn't manage more than a couple of sleepy handjobs most of the time, too tired and sore from riding all day for anything else. He tried to justify the amount of nights a week he ended up in Harry's bed even if they didn’t have sex with a number of excuses – ranging from his flat's wonky heating, the frozen meals home delivery service that delivered to the boy’s house, or the fact that it was Liam's place too and he liked spending time with his friend, but none seemed to convince him. In the end he just said  _fuck it_ and did what he wanted, it wasn't like Harry'd ever shown the slightest sign of being tired of his presence anyway.

Today was a long, shitty day. The morning was damp and blanketed in such heavy fog that Louis couldn’t see the opposite edge of the paddock when he first came in. That took them indoors, which Darcy _hated_ , and by mid-afternoon she’d refuse the higher jumps, almost toppling him over on more than one occasion. Louis hated using crops and spurs and even though he wasn’t a particularly patient person, with Darcy he had the patience of a saint. He decided to cut his losses and spent the rest of the day working on their technique with Paul, but the downside of being so attuned to his horse was that by the time he was heading for the locker room, Darcy’s bad mood had contaminated him.

He switched his phone on and shot Harry a text asking for his _ETA_ before noticing there was a posh envelope in his corporate mailbox, the London Olympia Horse Show logo sparking his curiosity. Inside he found a hospitality package for the day he would compete containing tickets to a private box, which, _what the fuck_. Understanding dawned on him when at last he saw a note from Simon, saying he should ‘bring his loved ones to see him on his big day’. Louis was immediately wary, Simon'd never treat him to several-thousand quid VIP boxes without wanting something in return. It was never something too outrageous, usually some dinner parties or business lunches with Louis as an accessory to impress his guests, but still.

This back and forth was how their working relationship functioned, and Louis didn’t resent him – God knows he wouldn’t be where he was today without all the networking Simon had dragged him to in the years he’d been competing professionally, but the note didn’t give him any clue as to what he’d be agreeing to by accepting the tickets. Louis put the envelope in his messenger bag, deciding to worry about it tomorrow, and changed out of his riding clothes before heading to the car park.

Zayn was already eating by the time Louis let himself into the boys’ house through the perpetually unlocked kitchen door, which was odd, since he was usually the last one to arrive. Winter was the worst of their training, the cold weather combined with 10 hours of riding left them tired and sore by the end of the day, and even Harry, who fancied himself a chef (he certainly mentioned having been a baker in his teen years enough times to make sure Louis couldn’t forget it even if he tried), didn’t have the willpower to cook dinner. Niall had showed them a website for a company that delivered home cooked meals and Louis, Zayn and Liam had agreed immediately, glad to ditch the village pub’s greasy food for good.

“Bad training day too, huh?” Zayn said _in lieu_ of a greeting when Louis entered the kitchen, opening the freezer and perusing their meal selection. He could see Niall in the living room watching a golf match, and Liam was nowhere in sight, but his car was at the front of the house.

“The worst. Darcy was so stubborn I kind of wanted to strangle her for a second.” He settled for cottage pie with a side of peas, diced carrot and swede. The oven was still warm from when Zayn had used it, so Louis just stuck his dinner in and cranked the heat up.

“You probably shouldn’t, considering she’s more valuable than your whole existence.” And, _yeah_. Last time he checked Darcy was valued for sale at £1.6 million. Not the most expensive horse he’d seen by far, but it still boggled his mind that his baby was such an expensive commodity. _Speaking of Darcy’s value._

“Hey, get this. Simon bought me a private box for my jump day at Olympia.” He retrieved the envelope and handed it to Zayn, sitting across the table and checking his phone. Harry had just responded ‘ _ETA 15 minutes_ ’, so Louis got up and went back to the fridge to retrieve the roast beef meal he knew Harry liked.

“Nice. What part of your soul you’ll have to give for this?” Zayn smirked at him. He hated the non-riding aspects of their jobs just as much as Louis did, but was decidedly less whiny about it. _Whatever_ , if Louis was going to be dragged to brunch after brunch full of snobby people he was going to complain about it, _sue him_.

“Dunno yet.” He shrugged, sticking Harry’s dinner alongside his in the oven. “It says there it’s for twelve people, do you think your mom and sisters would like to go with mine?”

 “Sick, bro, they’d love it. You’re not thinking about inviting the Doncaster lads?”

“So the fuckers can give me shit for how posh it is? Nah.” Their school friends loved to give them a hard time for their choice in profession, but went to their UK competitions whenever they could. “I’ll give them the girl’s stand tickets now that we have the private box.”

“So, that’s nine with our mums and sisters put together. I’m assuming you’re counting me in, so ten.”

“Of course I’m counting you in, you fucker. One ticket for me so I can go up there with you guys before the show starts, so eleven. Then twelve with Harry.”

“Harry’s gonna meet the family, uh?”

“Well, he’s not competing too and Liam and Niall will be working, so it’s not like I can leave him out, is it?” Louis retorted sarcastically, but he blushed all the same. He’d spent the journey home agonizing over what Harry meeting his family would mean, but still, from the moment Louis decided to accept the private box, it had never been a question whether he would be invited or not.

Zayn only smirked wider, a knowing look on his face, but didn’t say anything else as he got up and loaded his dishes on the dishwasher. As if on cue, Louis heard the sound of Harry’s car pulling up the driveway. He got up to check on their dinners, flicking Zayn’s ear for being such a smug little shit while he was at it. The front door opened and moments later he could hear Harry shedding layers and asking Niall about his golf match. Zayn went to join them while Louis arranged plates and cutlery on the table.

Harry stuck his head inside the kitchen just as Louis had taken their dinner out, cheeks still a little frostbitten, and eyed the two dishes, smiling. He pulled Louis into a kiss, and his lips were cold and chapped, but Louis pulled him in tighter. Always nearer.

“Missed you at lunch today. I find it so weird that we all work together and sometimes don’t see each other at the centre.”

“Yeah. Darcy was being difficult today so I skipped lunch.”

Harry _tsked_ disapprovingly, hand coming up to card through Louis’ hair and tip his head to the side, Harry’s teeth sinking lightly on his favourite spot on the side of Louis’ neck. “Thank you for preparing my dinner.”

“It’s just heating it up, Harry, stop acting like I cooked you a banquet every time I do it.” Louis said, embarrassed, voice muffled against Harry’s hoodie. He liked this one a lot, even though it was an ugly green and had the logo for a sports team Louis had never even heard of. It was soft and always smelled like Harry.

“Still. Thank you.” Louis buried his head on Harry’s neck. It was still cold from him being outside, and contrasted nicely against his flaming cheeks.

***

Louis frowned at his email, later that night when he was tucked in Harry’s bed after showering and stealing his green hoodie to sleep in. Paul had sent him the partial standings for the World Cup, and Louis was tied in first place with a Swedish competitor, both with 37 points. He’d jumped in the Helsinki qualifier at the end of October and then in Madrid at the end of November, where he’d got 17 points, three less than the first one but still an overall great score. He’d actually expected to be in a lower position after only attending two qualifiers out of six so far, and being in a good position felt a bit bittersweet, knowing he would not go through with it until the final.

He closed his email and put Harry’s ipad aside, not wanting to dwell on his competition choices. Harry was still in the shower, the both of them having been banned from showering together after using up all the hot water one too many times – which was totally unfair, Liam was just envious of their hot shower sex. His dick took an interest to the memory of the last time Harry blew him in the shower, on his knees for him on the tiled floor and urging Louis to fuck his mouth.

Louis palmed himself distractedly. He hoped Harry wasn’t too tired for a go before bed, they hadn’t had sex since the weekend and three days was honestly too long without Harry’s perfect dick inside him. Tomorrow was another jumping day for him, though, and he didn’t fancy spending the whole training wincing at every jump and getting weird looks from Paul.

Harry entered the bedroom then, only in sweatpants and still a bit damp from the shower. Louis’ dick was _definitely_ interested now, mind already jumping to scenarios – maybe Harry would ride him, or maybe he’d bend Harry in half on the bed, legs on Louis’ shoulders (all that yoga was really beneficial, Louis loved Harry’s elasticity), or maybe he’d-

“Happy to see me?” Harry interrupted his daydreaming, eyebrows raised. He was looking pointedly at where Louis was still palming himself over his pants, having caught him staring.

“Always happy to see you.” Louis replied cheekily and they smiled at each other for a second. “Now come here and let me fuck you.” Harry winced minutely, shifting from foot to foot. “What? You don’t want to?”

“No, I do, it’s just.” Harry averted his gaze, ears pink.

“What? What is it, baby?” Louis crawled over until he was on his knees at the edge of the bed, tugging Harry near.

“New riding trousers.”

“Oh no, Haz.” Louis’ hand flew to his mouth but his giggles escaped anyway, Harry turning pinker. “Full leather seat?” Harry nodded jerkily, a small smile tugging at his lips even though Louis was laughing at his expense. “And you wore them all day? You can’t do that, baby, you have to break them in little by little.” Most riding trousers are designed not to irritate the rider’s skin, but then again, most riders don’t have to wear them eight to twelve hours a day, six days a week. “What did you apply on it?”

“Just some moisturizer.  It’s fine really, it’s not even bothering me that much.”

“No, but it’s gonna take ages to heal. There’s some bepanthen in my bag, go on.”

“Why do you carry diaper rash ointment around?” Harry asked amusedly, “You into some obscure kink you want to tell me about?”

“No, you nutter. Just go get it before I retract my generous offer and leave your red, irritated behind to fend for itself.”

“ _Please_. Like you don’t have a direct interest in its wellbeing.” Harry scoffed, going to scoop Louis’ bag off the floor by Harry’s dresser.

“Well, I _am_ quite fond of your lovely little arse. I just want what’s best for it.” Louis said, mock innocently.

“And by that you obviously mean your cock.”

“ _Obviously_.”

***

"How about peppermint?" Harry asked him, unzipping Louis' garment bag to reveal the navy blue riding jacket he'd wear at London Olympia in a few minutes.

" _No way_ , I knew a horse called peppermint." Louis face scrunched up as he looked at Harry's reflection in the mirror. "We have to steer clear of the horse related words."

"Basil, then?" Basil? _Honestly_ , Harry.

"Or we could stick to the standard _'red, yellow, green'_ system, how does that sound?" He turned and extended the fabric of his stock tie, lifting his chin so Harry could tie it for him.

"Boring. I was hoping we could have a safe word of our own." He pouted, Louis going on his tip toes to nip at his jutting bottom lip. "But I suppose we can use your generic words, at least you won't forget them."

"Don't sass me, Harold. As far as distraction techniques go, you were doing a much better job via text message." London Olympia, held between the 19th and the 23th of December, was the first event both he and Harry were competing in since the World Equestrian Games in August. The dressage qualifier had been the first one to happen, Louis watching from the back besides Niall, not daring to move a muscle for the whole 7 minutes of Harry's performance. It had gone brilliantly, of course, Harry coming close to breaking a competition record with a whopping 85.44% score. Today was Louis' turn, and Harry'd been by his side through all of his competition preparations since he first checked Darcy in over 6 hours ago.

"Maybe. But then again, if we were texting I couldn't do this-" He nipped at Louis' neck, just above his stock tie. "Or this," He sucked at Louis' earlobe, Louis going pliant in his arms. "Or this." Harry kissed him, a slow, toe-curling kiss that had Louis' mind going blank. He didn't know how long they stayed curled together, kissing in one of the dressing rooms in the competition’s back area, but by the time they separated Louis was flushed and much less tense. "Still wish I was texting you instead?" He smiled, dimples popping. Louis thumbed at the bigger one on his left cheek, dipping his finger in the skin indentation and thinking, _lucky dimples. I'm safe._

"I might need one more kiss to be convinced."

"Just one more?" Harry teased, leaning his forehead against Louis'.

"Just one for luck."

***

By the time they managed to separate long enough to finish getting Louis dressed in his formal riding attire, he only had 20 minutes until he had to go get Darcy. The VIP section was as posh as one would expect, people dressed in evening attire, holding glasses of champagne and having polite conversation over a soothing musical background. Louis stood out in his competitor clothes, several people he knew and even more that he didn't know stopping him to shake his hand and wish him a good set of jumps.

Harry hung back as they slowly made their way to Louis' private box, his and Zayn's sisters huddled together by the rail overlooking the competition paddock while Zayn and their moms were talking in a corner. His mum was the first to spot him, smiling broadly and coming over to pull him into a tight hug. Her smell was like a calming balm to him, warming him to his core as he squeezed and swung her from side to side, making her laugh. No amount of facetime was enough to make him not miss his family, but tomorrow they'd all be riding north for Christmas and, of course, his birthday.

"Hey, mum."

"Hiya, boobear. How are you feeling, baby?" He could see Harry biting his cheek to keep from laughing from where he stood watching their interaction, and _no, mum, don't give him ammo_.

"Nervous, but not too much. I'm alright. You enjoying the room?"

"Fancy food and free champagne, son, of course we're enjoying it, aren't we, Jay?" Zayn's mum laughed, coming to hug him next. "I’m sure you'll be great, love, you boys work so hard."

"Thank you, Trisha. Good to see you." Both of them turned expectantly to Harry, who'd been silent until now, and a fresh wave of nervousness washed over him, this time for reasons completely unrelated to showjumping. "Uh, ladies, this is Harry. Harry, this is my mum Jay, and Zayn's mum Trisha."

"Hello, love, you alright? So nice to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you." Harry shot him a loaded look over his mum's shoulder as they hugged, but Louis was suddenly very interested in his pristine riding boots. He'd mentioned Harry and Niall to his mum on a number of occasions, but failed to mention the nature of his relationship with Harry. He just didn't know how to explain it to her without her fussing over wanting to meet him and having him over for dinner and already planning their june wedding in her head, while Louis himself still had so many questions.

"Hello, love. Aren't you so handsome? I'm starting to think a handsome face is one of the requirements to be a professional rider, isn't it, Jay? What with how handsome our boys are as well."

" _Mum_." Zayn groaned, hugging her from behind.

"Thank you." Harry blushed, eyes downcast. Was he... _shy_? Was Louis actually witnessing a shy Harry Styles? "Nice to meet you, Mrs Tomlinson, Mrs Malik."

"Mrs Tomlinson is my ex-mother-in-law, love, call me Jay. We'll be spending the evening together, no need for such formalities." She said, smiling warmly at him. His mum was the best, honestly. "Oh, Simon came by earlier, love." She said, addressing him. "Told us about the World Cup final in Las Vegas! Exciting innit? I'm so proud of you baby, I'll check with the hospital as soon as I get back, I've always wanted to go to America! Lottie probably won't go because of Uni, but the other three-"

"Wait! Wait up, mum, what?" Simon wouldn't. He _wouldn't_.

"The World Cup, love. Today is a qualifier for the final that you're competing in, innit?" He _would_.

"Yeah, but I'm not going to compete-" Louis interrupted himself, mind going a mile a minute. "Zayn, were you here?" Zayn nodded tightly, inclining his head towards the exit of the private box. "Mum, I gotta go, alright? Show's starting. Don't worry, everything's fine." He added before she worried.

"Alright, love. Do you think you'll still be able to meet us today?"

"I don't know, mum, it depends on how I place in the qualifier, you know how it goes."

"Well, then let us pray you won't have time, eh? Good luck, baby. I love you."

"I love you too, mum."

He hugged his and Zayn's mums one more time, coming over to his sisters briefly to get a hug and a smooch from each before signalling for Zayn and Harry to follow him out. They were barely out of earshot before he turned around.

" _Spill_."

"He came around and chatted with them for a while, earlier. When he mentioned the final I said you'd be overloaded and he said you had found a way to work it out. He didn't mention it to you at all?"

"No, not at all. That fucker, I _hate it_ when he does that. I'm not his fucking slave." Louis' temper was rising, which was a terrible idea minutes before he had to compete. Darcy could always sense his temper, and he needed to be calm for her, she already had to deal with the harsh artificial lights and the thousands of people screaming during her jumps.

"Maybe he didn't want to tell you before you jumped to avoid putting pressure on you." Harry said, placating. He started to rub circles at the small of Louis' back, and Louis could see his mum peering curiously from inside the private box, but that was the last of his concerns right now.

"There should be no 'telling me', Haz, he should've consulted me in the first place. This is only the third qualifier I attend out of seven so far, and if I'm really going to the final then I'm _fucked_. No way in hell I'll have time to go to three more until then. One mediocre score and I'll have no chance." Louis knew he was winding himself up, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a kamikaze mission.

"Hey. Look at me." Harry said sternly, grabbing him by the shoulders. "There'll be no mediocre score, okay? You're so talented, you've been working _so_ hard, you only participated in two qualifiers out of six and your scores are high enough that you're still in first, how rare is that? You're gonna be fine, and if-"

They were interrupted by the boom of the sound system, a voice announcing " _Ladies and gentlemen, a warm welcome to the annual London Olympia International Horse Show..._ ”

" _Shit_ , I gotta run. You two should get back to the box."

"Stay calm, keep your focus and good luck, bro." Zayn pulled him into a hug, patting him on the back, and retreated back into their box.

Harry hugged him next, laying a brief kiss on the side of Louis' neck and pulling back, silent. They stared at each other for a beat, no words needed, until Harry's mouth pulled to the side enough that his dimple appeared, and Louis couldn't resist pressing on it with his thumb, just a little.

"I know, baby."

 And into the fray he went.

***

_And that was Louis Tomlinson on Tigre completing the only all clear round of the evening, ladies and gentlemen! It’s been a fantastic evening for Great Britain here at London Olympia, what an outstanding result!_

Louis' chest couldn’t contain his beating heart as he galloped on Darcy, having just finished his final round. _No penalties._ 77.56 seconds out of an 80 limit, not that it mattered for his score, really, because they had _no penalties. Fuck_. He clapped Darcy on the back enthusiastically as they did their last lap towards the back of the competition. He’d won, completely in the clear, a perfect set of jumps. _An Olympic gold medal-worthy set of jumps._ He couldn’t wrap his head around it, it was the first time he’d done a perfect set on top of Darcy, his previous one being with Cella on his last qualifier before the fall, almost three years ago.

And now he was here again, on top of the podium along with his great, wonderful horse. Bring the World Cup, the Senior Championships and the Olympics. Bring it all, Louis and Darcy would face it.

***

The back area was completely chaotic when Louis re-entered it after receiving his ribbon, people tripping over themselves to shake his hand, complimenting him on his victory. He still had a whole set of interviews and bureaucratic procedures to get through before he’d be able to leave, and knowing Harry he’d probably want to wait to go home with Louis.

The telly at the room was showing a ‘best moments’ compilation of the evening, tuned on BBC Sports, and, although Louis was pretty sure he knew who was narrating he turned the volume up just to be 100% sure.

Sure enough, Nick’s voice boomed through the device, which meant he’d been here somewhere doing the live link through the evening. Dread pooled on Louis’ stomach, knowing he’d have to see him at least for the interviews.

Nick Grimshaw, a BBC sports narrator, was once Louis’ – well, he couldn’t say friends with benefits, seeing as they weren’t exactly friends – on and off ‘casual fling’, to put it politely. They’d met at a press conference where, amongst other announcements, Louis’d been introduced as a competing rider for his first Grand Prix at the tender age of 21. Nick’d been 28 then, recently promoted to sports narrator, and they’d fallen into bed quickly and carelessly, never seeing much of each other outside their bedrooms or press events.

It was as casual as it gets and blissfully uncomplicated until, three years down the line, Nick suddenly decided he hated Louis’ guts, but it still didn’t stop them from shagging – To Louis it all came down to the fact that he didn’t really care what Nick thought of him as a person as long as he kept opening his door for him at 3 am after a frustrated attempt at pulling someone else at a club, while Nick had made it pretty clear to him on more than one occasion that he was only keeping Louis around until someone better came along. It sounded awful but it worked, in its own twisted way, and Louis couldn’t really bring himself to let Nick go even after Zayn and Liam had staged an intervention on last year’s London Olympia.

He’d continued to sleep with him, now in absolute secrecy – even keeping it from his best friends, in the seven months leading up to Hickstead. That had been the absolute final time they’d seen each other, a big fight where Nick’d said awful things to him being the last straw in the stack of ‘ _things Louis is willing to put up with for a good, casual shag’_. He’d told Nick to piss off and never call him again, deleted all his contact information and vowed to never cave in and fuck him again.

That turned out to be an extremely easy vow to keep, since three weeks later, at the World Equestrian Games, Louis had met Harry, and all his old convictions and ‘dating rules’ had been ridiculously, irrevocably upturned – which brought him to the present day and the present problem: Nick and Harry could not, _under any circumstances_ , meet – even more so in a setting where Louis was the subject of conversation.

He’d have to find a way of making Harry go home, and since for all that Zayn and Liam knew, he hadn’t slept with Nick in a year (when in reality it was five months), and he wasn’t really in the mood for the whole ‘don’t hide things from your friends’ speech (not that the two of them had a leg to stand on – it had been almost two months since their weed-addled kiss and Louis still didn’t know what happened after it), he couldn’t count on them to help.

He scrolled past all of Harry’s unread texts congratulating him and typed,

_you know, tomorrow is my birthday. and I just won a competition._

**_I am well aware of both and SO HAPPY FOR YOU :D_ **

_you know what would be a great birthday present_

_if you accompanied my family to their hotel for me_

_and then convinced Zayn to stay there too_

_so we can have the flat to ourselves_

**_you sure you don’t want me to wait for you?_ **

**_I can convince him from here_ **

_but would you please drive them to the hotel?_

_make sure they’re settled_

_and then go to the flat and wait for me there_

_you’ll have plenty of time to think of a way to make me a very pleased birthday boy_

**_sure I can take them_ **

**_meet you at the flat, then?_ **

_yes, please_

_thank you bby_

**_no problem :D_ **

**_and you’re gonna be a VERY pleased birthday boy_ **

Realistically, Louis knew Nick would eventually find out about them, but as long as he could protect Harry from the kind of venomous sarcastic remarks Nick excelled in, he would.

***

Earlier he had entertained the idea of going for a pint with the lads to celebrate the end of the competition, but the disadvantage of evening shows was that the post-performance proceedings took so look that Louis was knackered by the time he let himself into his London flat at nearly eleven. He wanted to celebrate with Harry, though, which was why he made a trip to the competitor's bathroom for a shower before heading home. Louis felt much more confident seducing him when he didn't smell like stables, after all.

"Haz, Zayn? Anyone home?" Harry came padding into the room, already in only in his underwear and dangling a blindfold between his fingers. Great minds, as they say. "No Zayn? How did you convince him?"

"I told him to take my room at the delegation hotel." Harry smirked, helping Louis lose his coat and scarf. Every time they had to travel for competitions administration booked hotel rooms for the whole delegation. Zayn and Louis didn’t ask for rooms since they had the flat, but apparently Harry did, even though he knew he’d be sleeping with Louis the whole week. "Got big plans for us tonight, don't want you to worry about the noise."

"Pff, like you're not the loudest."

"We both know _you're_ the loudest, and I love it." Those were recent additions to their dirty talk. _I love how loud you are_ , _I love your fingers_ , and so on. Louis noticed it all, even though he pretended he didn't.

"Who's the blindfold for?"

"You." He said, slipping it over his head and adjusting it so that Louis was in total darkness. "You remember the words?"

"Red, yellow, green. You said it yourself I couldn't forget them, curly." Louis joked, trying to mask the way his blood was pumping faster, palms sweating.

"You already showered for me?" Harry whispered, tugging at the still damp strands of hair at the nape of Louis' neck. Louis nodded, biting his lip. "Good boy." And _fuck_ , it was so hot when Harry was in the mood to take charge. Louis loved to be in control, loved to have Harry desperate under him, but whenever Harry started bossing him around, voice deep and firm, Louis couldn't help but submit. It was one of his favourite things about the two of them, how they could switch roles in the bedroom so naturally and it never seemed forced.

Never mind the fact that Harry was a kinky fucker that was game for everything Louis suggested and the safe words were mostly for him. Louis'd never considered himself a vanilla kind of guy before meeting Harry, mainly because anal sex in itself isn't vanilla, but _boy_ had he been missing out.

Harry finished undressing him until he was standing naked by the door of his flat, blindfolded. His heart was beating fast, breath shallower due to his inability of anticipating Harry's movements, and he jumped when he felt Harry's fingers closing on his nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers.

"I'm so proud of you, Lou." Harry said from behind him, and Louis didn't even hear him move around, _Jesus_. "A perfect set, maximum score. Just remembering you on the paddock gets me so hard, you have no idea." But then he pressed his hard, clothed cock against Louis' bare arse and, _yeah_ , Louis did have an idea. "You're so good at riding, aren't you, Lou? The best on a horse and the best on my cock." He circled his hands around Louis' waist, so big they almost touched, and propelled him to start walking towards the bedroom.

He didn't stop until Louis' knees touched the edge of the bed, and then guided him to climb onto it, positioning him on his elbows and knees. Harry retreated without a word then, and Louis heard the various sounds of drawers, bottles and bags being opened, all the while he was still spread open, on display, shaking with anticipation. Louis didn't know if he was allowed to talk, but Harry's silence combined with the various sounds he was making around the bedroom piqued his curiosity, and as Louis was inching a hand to tug at the blindfold, trying to sneak a peek at Harry, a hard, stinging slap landed on his arsecheek, making him gasp and clutch the sheets with both hands, pulse skyrocketing.

"No peeking." Harry's voice was stern, but a moment later his hands landed softly on the sore spot, massaging it, while Harry whispered, "What's your colour, Lou?"

"Green." He whispered back, cock hanging hard between his legs. He'd never been spanked, never thought it was something he'd want, but as Harry retreated his hand and positioned himself behind him, Louis' muscles clenched in anticipation. The next slap was softer than the first one, but still hard enough Louis' head dropped to his folded hands, gasping. "Green. So fucking green, _fuck_."

"You're loving this, aren't you? So naughty, my Louis." And Louis had to bite his fist to keep from gasping _yes_ and _yours_ as the third slap landed, this time on his other cheek. "It's your birthday tomorrow, isn't it, baby? 26 years old. I wonder if you can take 26 spankings." Another slap, Louis' pitiful moans echoing after it. He didn't know if he could take 22 more, his arse was already sore, but he felt an almost frantic need to try, to be good for Harry.

"I can. I can, Harry, I can take it." He said, writhing, colourful spots dancing in his vision.

"I know you do, Lou. But maybe we'll work up to it, yeah? For tonight I'll give you eight."

"No, Harry, I can ta-" The fifth slap was the hardest one yet, punching the breath right out of him.

" _I said_ , I'll give you eight." The sixth and seventh ones were given in quick succession, one to each cheek, and Louis' thighs were trembling. He felt dizzy, like he could topple over from his position kneeled on the bed at any second, and Harry was taking forever to give him the last one, and he didn't know which cheek he'd slap, and he was so fucking turned on it _hurt_.

The last spanking came just as Harry used his other hand to press his thumb to Louis' hole, and Louis moaned, loud, elbows giving out and falling forward face first into the bed. He turned his head to the side so he could breathe and sneaked a hand to his cock, needing to relieve some tension, but Harry intercepted it and used it to flip him on his back, Louis moaning again as his sore bottom hit the mattress.

"No touching." He said, bringing Louis' hands over his head and tying them together with a soft material that felt suspiciously like a tie. Once he was satisfied Louis couldn't break free, Harry shimmied down his body again, pausing to lay a brief kiss on his hip. "You have such a perfect cock," He said, voice dreamy, but made no move to touch it. "It'd look so pretty in a cock ring, flushed dark while you beg me to get off.” He could feel Harry's breath ghosting over the underside of his cock where it lay hard and flushed against Louis' belly. "But tonight what I want is to make you come all over your pretty little tummy."

He moaned when Harry licked a flat stripe up the underside of his cock, tonguing at the slit for a moment before retreating, the cold air making him shiver. Harry manoeuvred him until he could shove two pillows underneath Louis' arse, settling Louis back down onto a towel. Louis wondered what kind of mess Harry planned on making that he'd need a towel, but his bound hands and covered eyes left him with no choice but waiting.

The answer came moments later when Harry propped Louis’ legs up and pulled them apart as far as they would go, spreading him open, and Louis felt a thick, syrupy substance being poured over his hole. It was warm and sticky, unlike any lube he'd ever used, almost like – "Harry! Harry, _yellow_." Louis whispered, panicked. Harry froze over him, so still Louis couldn't even hear him breathing. "Please tell me that's not wax."

"It's not wax." Harry said, relieved. Moments later Louis felt a slick finger begging for entrance in his mouth, and he wrapped cautious lips around it. Honey. Harry was pouring _fucking honey_ over him. God, this man was going to kill him. "Green?" Harry asked, pulling his finger out of Louis' mouth with a pop.

"Green, yeah." Louis sighed, toes curling. Harry continued to spread the honey over him, all around his hole, making a right mess, and then over his balls and cock, filling up his bellybutton, covering both his nipples, spreading it around his neck and finishing on his mouth. Harry kissed there first, his honey flavoured tongue tangling with Louis', Harry hovering over him. His mouth began a downward descent then, licking and sucking over his neck until Louis was sure he was going to be covered in bruises, paying attention to each of his nipples, biting and tugging until they were sore, sucking more bruises over his chest and tummy.

He wrapped his lips over Louis' dick and proceeded to try and suck his brains out, fingers ghosting over his entrance. Louis bucked into it until Harry's honey-slick finger slipped inside and crooked in search of his prostate.

Harry's lips left his dick to suck along his finger, adding a second one and scissoring them, fitting his tongue in between, sucking over his rim. Louis was mad, he was wild with need, thighs trembling, bucking into Harry's face as he ate him out like a _fucking champ_ , pulling his fingers out to grab his arsecheeks with both hands and burying himself between them, sucking him clean, thrusting his tongue in and out of him, and Louis cried for Harry as he came, tears pooling against his blindfold as his cock spurted, untouched, onto his belly.

Harry's fingers were inside him again as he slowly came down from his orgasm, this time coated in the familiar, watery texture of lube, spreading him open expertly while Louis was still pliant, incapable of moving a single muscle.

The pressure on his prostate bordered on too much so fast after his orgasm, but Louis let himself feel it, let himself be spread open by Harry's fingers and then his cock. Harry slid into him with a sigh, wrapping Louis' legs around his waist and bending over until their chests touched, Louis' sticky with leftover honey. He pulled Louis' blindfold off then, eyes clouding in concern when he saw the tears pooled at the corners.

" _No_ , I'm fine, baby, I swear. They're the good kind. I think that was the best orgasm of my life, Jesus Christ." Louis lifted his still bound arms and put them over Harry's head.

“I generally go by Harry.” He smiled, pleased, and Louis used his bound hands to pull him into a kiss.

They stayed like that for ages, pressed together into their kiss, Harry buried inside him but not moving, until Louis was restless again, cock filling up between their bellies, and he urged Harry to move.

Harry built a slow, deep rhythm, ramming into Louis' prostate with precise thrusts. They were sweaty and sticky and generally disgusting, but the pressure on his dick was heavenly, on the good side of rough.

The underside of it, sticky with dried honey, rubbed over Harry's happy trail, and it built and built until, after a while, Louis realised with a start that he could probably come like this again.

"Imma come like this, baby. Don't stop. God, please, don't stop."

"Yeah?" He asked, thrusting faster, a bead of sweat falling from his brow onto Louis’ cheek.

"Yeah, fuck, you're so good at this. So good to me Harry, I swear, no one's ever been better than you, no one else, just you baby." Harry’s pupils were blown over, the black swallowing the green, and Louis could get lost in them, _was already lost in them_.

"Just me." Harry parroted, choked, burying his head in Louis' neck. "Just me, Lou, no one else, just me-"

His second orgasm happened on the tail end of Harry's, both moaning each other's names, pressed together.

Louis felt utterly spent, the fatigue of the day mounting with his two sensational orgasms, and he was barely conscious to feel Harry pulling out of him and tying off the condom before he was out like a light.

***

Louis jolted awake at the sound of his iPad's facetime alarm after what felt like only 10 minutes later. He tried to extend his arm to the bedside table to turn it off but discovered his hands were still bound, Harry a heavy weight over his chest, both still naked and dirty.

He knew it was his mom's midnight call, their little adapted tradition from when Louis was little and they'd stay awake together until the clock ticked midnight, and she'd be the first one to wish him a happy birthday. There was no way he could let her see him right now, though, naked, lathered in honey and covered in bruises, not to mention the sleeping Harry lying over him.

He waited until the call disconnected and kissed Harry awake, over his nose and eyes and cheeks, until Harry's face scrunched up and he opened his eyes, disoriented and _so fucking adorable_ it wasn't fair.

"Hey, baby. I need you to untie me or my hands will fall off during the night."

"Oh my god!” Harry’s eyes bulged out. “I'm so sorry, Lou, I must've blacked out." He said, pushing himself up and untying him, taking each of his wrists in a hand and massaging them.

"It's okay, Haz, don't worry, we slept for twenty minutes tops. No harm done." Harry's hand flew to Louis' iPad, which lit up to show _00:03 24 December_ and a lost facetime call from _Mum_. Harry's smiled then, turning to Louis and kissing him with a loud, exaggerated _muah_.

"Happy birthday, baby." He whispered, both smiling into each other's lips.

"My mum's gonna be so pissed you stole her thunder." Louis teased, laughing at Harry's horrified face and pulling him for another kiss. The sticky sensation was bothering him, though, the two loads of dried come on his belly itching like a motherfucker. "I'm gonna go shower and you're gonna change the sheets and then join me."

"Noo, don't shower yet." Harry pouted, pinning him to the bed with his weight.

"Haz, I have honey inside my arsehole." Louis deadpanned. Harry smirked at him, and Louis knew what was coming even before he'd opened his mouth.

"Well, at least it's organic lub-" Harry burst out laughing before he could even finish it, Louis joining him in delighted laughter.

It had been his birthday for just over five minutes, but already it was the best one.

***

Harry was sitting on the bed, a small wrapped box in hand, when Louis returned to the bedroom from his facetime call with his mum. He'd said he slept through the call, too tired from the competition. She hadn't seemed convinced, eyeing his damp hair and turtleneck sweater suspiciously, but let it slide and ended the call asking him to have breakfast with them at their hotel before they'd all make the drive up to Doncaster in her 7-seater MPV.

"What's that?" Louis asked, coy. Harry only smirked at him in you-damn-well-know-what fashion and pulled Louis to sit sideways across his lap, pulling him into a kiss and putting the box in his hands.

"Your birthday present."

"I thought my birthday present was the very through dicking you just gave me." Louis said, smiling, and started to tear the wrapping.

"Like I need a special occasion to give you a through dicking." Harry retorted, lacing his hand over Louis' hip. Louis froze when he saw the familiar five-pointed crown, the bold green letters spelling ROLEX on top of the box.

"Harry." He made to get up, but Harry's hands circling his hip pinned him to his lap. "Harry, I can't accept this."

"I knew you'd say this." Harry chuckled to himself. "Back in the Swiss Nationals I renegotiated my contract with them, wanted to back out of it, and the woman offered to let me pick any men's watch I wanted as a sort of 'treat'. I had it engraved last week and that was the only thing I paid for, so, yes, you can accept it."

"I can’t believe you. That was almost three months ago! You could've picked any watch you wanted, and you picked one for me? After we'd only slept together one time? You fucking moron." Louis mumbled, but it sounded more affectionate than accusing. "How do I know you're not lying to me?"

"You don't, but you're gonna have to accept it because it's engraved and I can't return it, so." Louis sighed and opened the box to take his first peek at the watch, which had a steel and white gold case and a black dial. It was beautiful, a classic design, and fairly discreet. Louis was secretly relieved that it wasn't encrusted in diamonds or something equally ostentatious, he doubted he'd ever wear something like that.

"Do I wanna know how much it's valued on?" He asked wearily. It wasn't ostentatious but it wasn't simple, either. If Louis had to guess, he'd say over £10k _easily_.

"Probably not." Harry smirked, resting his chin on Louis' shoulder. "Turn it over." He turned it over to see _LWT_ engraved in big, elegant letters in the middle of the back case, a small _'Love, from Harry'_ engraved across the lower half of the back bezel.

He slid his fingers over the letters, feeling the texture of _love_ and _Harry_. Last week. Harry had it engraved last week.

"Thank you, baby. It's beautiful, I love it." He twisted to lay brief kiss over Harry's lips and slid the watch on, not surprised when it fit his wrist perfectly. Like Harry knew all of the contours of his body, even then.

***

Louis’ phone lit up with Harry’s facetime call as they were all gathered around the table for Christmas lunch. Five heads whipped around in the direction of the sound before Louis was fast enough to cover the screen.

“Aw, it’s _Harry_.” Lottie cooed, Daisy and Phoebe following in a chorus as his mum smirked at him from the other end of the table. He levelled them all with an unimpressed glare before excusing himself from the table and taking the stairs two at a time.

“Hey, Haz.” A cat’s nose lit up the screen instead, the camera panning out enough to show black and white fur a second later. “Who’s that?”

“Say hi to Lou, dusty!” Harry’s voice boomed from somewhere off camera. “He’s so handsome, isn’t he? But don’t start fancying him or we’ll have to cat-fight it out.”

Louis laughed, endeared, leaning against the upstairs corridor. “Is this your other sister? You look very much alike. Same green eyes and all.”

Harry switched cameras and his face appeared, flushed and wearing a furry antlers tiara. “Merry Christmas, Lou. Whatcha up to?”

“Merry Christmas, Haz.” He smiled, covertly taking a screenshot of Harry in the ridiculous festive tiara. “Not much, was just having lunch.”

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s 3 in the afternoon, you couldn’t have known we are the biggest late-lunchers in the UK.”

“I’ll let you get back to your lunch, though. Call you before bed?”

“Deal.” Harry blew him a kiss, and Louis had to wait a few moments before his facial muscles decided to cooperate and stop smiling compulsively, so that he could get back to the room with his mum and sisters. He was being teased enough as it was.

***

It was boxing day and his credit card was being exploited by his sisters, Louis browsing twitter uninterestedly while the four girls ran rampant inside the store. His mum kept saying he indulged them too much, but he was a sister spoiler by nature and wore the badge proudly. They never really went crazy with the purchases and Louis liked that he was in a point in his life where he could buy nice things for the people he loved.

His mind kept coming back to Harry, though. It’d been radio silence ever since their facetime call the previous afternoon, Harry not picking up when Louis got tired of waiting and tried to call him himself. He’d sent him a picture earlier in the day of him pretending to suffer through shopping with his sisters with the caption ‘ _atoning for my sins at boxing day’_ but got no response either.

Louis was usually wary of coming off as clingy, but Harry never not called him after he’d promised to, and his mind kept jumping to awful scenarios, so Louis decided to bite the bullet one last time and called him again. It rung and rung, almost going to voicemail before Harry picked up, a weird noise in the background.

“Hey, Lou.” His voice sounded weirdly nasal, tone stilted, and Louis knew immediately that something was wrong.

“Haz, baby, are you okay? What happened?” He signalled to Fizzy that he was going outside, Harry making a chocked sound on the other end of the line. “Where are you?”

“I’m stopped at a service station on the M6."

“ _What_? Why? I thought you were at your grandparent’s with your mum?”

“I was, but –” Harry cut himself off, Louis hearing the windy noise of him sighing into the phone. “We had a fight. I don’t want to stay there anymore, I’m going home.”

But ‘ _home_ ’ right now was an empty house, with all the boys being away with their families for the holidays. Louis was damned if he was going to let Harry drive all the way to Buckinghamshire when he was audibly upset. “Have you passed Stoke-On-Trent?”

“No, not yet. Why?”

“Then circle Peak District and get on the M1. You’re coming here.” Louis said, firm.

“Lou-“

“Harry, it’s the middle of the holidays, there’s no one there! I’m not letting you go back home alone when I know that you’re upset! You don’t have to talk about it, alright? But if you don’t get your arse to Doncaster in two hours I’m taking the train down to go meet you. My mum won’t be too happy when I tell her I’m leaving after being home for barely two days, but it’s your choice.” And he knew it was a low blow, appealing to Harry’s need of pleasing everyone, but he meant it. He didn’t really want to leave, but if Harry wasn't coming, he would.

“Fine.” Harry sighed into the phone.

“Fantastic. I’ll text you the address so you can put it in your GPS. Get a move on, chop chop, I want you here before dinner.” He hung up, not wanting to give Harry a chance to backtrack, and texted him his mum’s address while re-entering the store to go get his sisters.

***

His mum looked highly amused when he told her about the conversation with Harry, and Louis'd spent the whole way home bracing himself for the relentless drilling for information he was sure would follow, but all he got was a knowing look and a “ _Of course he can stay, boobear_ ”, which he didn’t know if it meant his mum knew too much or nothing at all. The former, probably, mums had a weird sixth sense, Louis swore it must be part of their prenatal training, or something.

While he waited for Harry to arrive he showered, tidied up his childhood bedroom, offered to help with dinner and if Lottie and Fizzy exchanged  _one more_ amused look he’d march back into River Island and return all the shit he'd bought for them first thing in the morning tomorrow.

He jumped from the sofa when he heard the familiar sound of Harry’s car, waiting at the open door as Harry pulled an overnight bag from the passenger side and locked it. They stared at each other for a moment and Harry looking tired and sad was like a knife twisting in Louis’ gut. He pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tight and twisting his fingers in the curls that escaped at the back of his beanie, until the commotion inside the house was too much to ignore.

His mum and sisters greeted Harry like he was an old family friend and not someone they'd met three days before, making him feel at home, offering him tea and biscuits, and Louis’ earlier annoyance with them melted away.

They had dinner together and Harry laughed so hard at Lottie’s impression of teenager Louis he started choking on air, and it was only because Louis was grateful his family was making an effort to make Harry feel welcome that he didn’t kill her for showing Harry the pictures of his _suspenders and colourful trousers_ phase that she kept on her phone with the sole purpose of embarrassing Louis whenever she could.

The thing about having four siblings, though, was that private moments were few and far between, so after letting Daisy and Phoebe braid Harry’s hair in the living room, Louis told them the two of them were going for a walk and led Harry in the direction of the children’s playground he and Zayn used to hang out at night. The miniature house that was only accessible through a climbing rope didn’t have a roof and was barely big enough for the two of them to lie together on the cold wooden floor, heads tilted toward each other in the dark as they looked at the few stars visible in the cloudy night.

“Zayn and I used to come here to roll spliffs at night all through sixth form. I think we were the ones that gave this playground a bad rep.”

Harry snorted by his side, gloved hand clutching Louis’. “Where is he, by the way? If he was just across the street all evening and didn’t even come say hi I’ll be pissed off.”

“I’d like to see you get pissed off sometime.”

“What, you don’t think I have it in me?” Louis kind of didn’t, Harry was such a tree-hugging hippie it was difficult to imagine him exploding.

“No, I just think it’d be hot, you all angry.” Louis teased. “He’s in Bradford with his sisters and his dad, but he gets back tomorrow.”

“Oh. Did you see your dad this Christmas?”

“No. He’s usually at my paternal grandparent’s house when I stop by with the girls for breakfast on Christmas morning, but he wasn’t this year. I think he’s travelling with his wife, don’t know where to, though. We’re not really close.” Which was a bit of an understatement, but Louis didn’t feel like opening that particular can of worms tonight. No use in dwelling over people that didn’t accept his sexuality when he was loved by so many others who did.

They stayed silent for a while, crickets chirping in the dark. He heard more than saw Harry opening and closing his mouth several times, before settling on, “My grandparents got a great offer for Bean.”

“ _Oh, Harry_.” He clutched Harry’s hand tighter, turning on his side and leaning on his elbow to stare down at him. It was only clear enough to make out the shape of Harry’s eyes, grey in the moonlight, welling up with tears.

“They’re thinking of accepting it. The yard needs a renovation and the insurance for Bean goes higher and higher the more famous he gets. I know it’s incredibly selfish of me to ask them to refuse it, but they can’t sell Bean, Lou. They can’t.”

Louis pulled his glove off to wipe at the tears that spilled sideways from Harry’s eyes. He couldn’t really imagine what Harry must've been feeling, since Darcy was never his in the first place, but the uncertainty of not knowing if he’d be able to ride his horse come next year or even next month was something he was familiar with.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I know it’s terrible to think the new owner might want to separate you two, but realistically it’s a very small chance that it’ll happen, ok? As long as we keep winning, have us ride their horse is the best course of action, they’d be incredibly stupid to pull Bean from competitions.” He didn’t mention the fact that they’d have no say in what happened to their horses once they were too old to compete. Owning a medal winning horse was a privilege only a few could afford, unfortunately. “What if they only sell a percentage, do you think that’d be feasible? Darcy is co-owned but since Simon has the bigger share, he’s the one who has the final say in the decisions. That way your grandparents wouldn’t spend so much on insurance but Bean would still be theirs.”

“Probably, I don’t know. They made it sound like co-ownership wasn’t really an option. _Fuck._ ” He brought his hands to his face, scrubbing at his red rimmed eyes. “I’m sorry for dumping all this on you. And for intruding in your family holiday.”

“Hey, none of that.” He said fiercely, pulling Harry’s hands from his eyes. “I invited you here, remember? I _want_ you here with me. And of course you can come to me with a problem, Harry, don’t be crazy. I’ll help you figure it out, alright? If the person who made the offer to your grandparents doesn’t want to co-own we’ll find someone who’s willing to. You said it yourself, Bean is getting more famous by the day, and it won’t be hard to find some filthy rich widow who’s looking for a new way to show off.” Harry laughed at that, sniffling. “We’ll work it out, all right? Together.”

***

The house was quiet when they finally made their way back inside. He signalled for Harry to follow him upstairs, pointing the steps that always creaked something awful, until they were inside his old bedroom.

“Welcome to my humble abode, yours for the night. The bathroom is the white door at the end of the hall, there’s more blankets in the wardrobe if you’re too cold and-“

“Wait, you’re not sleeping here?” Harry interrupted him, brows furrowing.

“I don’t know if you noticed, Harold, but it’s a single bed.” He said, pointing to the bed by the wall.

“I don’t mind if you don’t.” Harry said, shrugging. “We don’t usually take up more space than that even when we can, anyway.” Which of course Louis knew, having woken up curled up in Harry more often than not over the past two months they’d been living in Buckinghamshire, but he had to at least give him the option, right?

“Alright. But no funny business, though, you hear me? These walls are _paper thin_ and I’d rather still be able to look my mum in the eyes tomorrow morning.”

“We both know that between the two of us I’m not the one with no control, Lou.” Harry smirked, pulling his jumper off and bending over his overnight bag in search of pyjamas, and, _yeah, he’d got him there_ , Louis thought wistfully as he ogled Harry’s perfect body.

***

His mum was almost off to work when Louis stumbled into the kitchen the following morning, being unable to sleep past seven even when he didn’t have training.

“Good morning, love. You and Harry sleep alright in that tiny bed?” Louis sputtered, blushing. Last night he’d dragged the air mattress from where it’d been set up in the living room to the floor of his bedroom just so it wasn’t too blatant that they’d shared a bed, but apparently he’d fooled no one. “Oh, were we still pretending he’s just a friend?” She asked, mock-surprised. “My bad. Anyway, I’ve left you all breakfast in the oven, alright? If Harry doesn’t want a full english there’s cereal and fruit, you know where everything is, don’t you, love? I gotta run now, give us a kiss.” She pulled him in, laying a wet smooch on his cheek, and was out the door before Louis’ sleepy brain could think of a response.

Sixth sense, he was telling ya.

***

They were all lazing around on the living room, Harry and him curled together on the sofa under a mountain of thick blankets, only half awake, the girls glued to their phones, when they got a mysterious text from Zayn’s sisters, who apparently had just got home from Bradford and had some important news to share. The four girls scrambled up, already pulling on coats and boots, and Louis only had time to yell a “ _watch the road when you cross!”_ before they were all out the door.

“Do you want to go hang with Zayn?” Louis asked, but he meant it more like texting Zayn to come over, because he was honestly too comfortable to move.

“Or we could go upstairs.” Harry whispered in his ear, hands trailing suggestively on his lower belly under the blankets. Heat coursed through him; the last time they'd had sex was his birthday eve, but he knew from experience that his sisters had an awful habit of barging in and out all the time to get something from their rooms when they were over at the Malik’s.

“My sisters might come back here. I don’t want to scar them for life.”

“And how many seconds do we have if the door opens?” Harry hand inched beneath the waistband of his sweatpants then, nails scratching at his trimmed pubic hair, and Louis was losing his will to resist incredibly fast.

“From upstairs? I don’t know, I won’t be able to hear it.”

“From here.” He wrapped his hand over Louis’ half-hard dick, pumping him slowly.

“Harry-“ Louis gasped, clutching his arm. _Fuck_ , but why was Harry so good at this. “10 seconds. More if they take off their coats– _fuck_ , Harry.”

“I wish we could,” Harry said, voice strangled, “But 10 seconds is only enough to stop this.” He pulled his hand out, shoving his and Louis’ sweatpants down to mid-thigh before turning to lay over him, one leg between Louis’, grinding their underwear-clad cocks together.

“Oh, _fuck._ ” Louis gasped, the heavenly pressure too much already, hands clutching at the blankets still covering them so they didn’t slide down, and pulled Harry into a filthy kiss, tiny moans escaping as he circled his hips in rhythm with Harry’s downward thrusts.

“Fuck, Lou. The sounds you make-“ Harry bit down at his neck and Louis keened, praying that his sisters didn’t decide to return then, because ‘ _stop moving and pretend they’re asleep_ ’ was more than he was capable of at the moment. “You’re so hot, baby. So fucking hot, god.”

“ _Harry_. Harder, Harry. Harder, baby.” Louis mumbled, fevered, dizzy with need. He hooked his legs around Harry’s hips and let go of the blankets to squeeze Harry’s bum, pulling him down on him so hard it almost hurt, and stars exploded behind his eyelids, his orgasm cresting over the horizon. “Fuck _, oh god.”_

“Let go, Lou. I’ve got you, baby, _I’ve got you_.” Harry chanted, hips rolling. Louis’ breath caught as he started to spasm, biting his lip and coming so hard his muscles jerked. He couldn’t stop writhing under Harry, making a wet mess inside his boxers. “Fuck, Lou.” Harry whispered, crazed, his thrusts becoming sloppy and jerky, like he'd only cared about maintaining some semblance of rhythm because of Louis, and he came, grunting, biting down on Louis’ covered shoulder, hips moving in smaller and smaller thrusts until he stopped completely.

“Fuck. _Jesus Christ_. _Fuck_ , Harry, that was so hot.” Louis heaved, disoriented. “I think the last time I came in my pants I still lived here.” He quipped, gasping, earning a breathless laugh from Harry.

“I couldn’t survive another day of not being able to make you come.” Harry whispered, pressing his fevered cheek against Louis’. “ _Now_ we can go hang out with Zayn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The frozen meals home delivery service actually does exist! Shoutout to wiltshire farm foods for getting me through uni in manchester on something other than meal deals and freddos!
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://leavingonatrain.tumblr.com/post/120412815685/leavingonatrain-fic-one-for-luck-by)


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you need visual aid for what a World Cup Final looks like, here’s one for [Harry (dressage)](https://youtu.be/vXgfBSetJro?t=1m6s) and one for [Louis (showjumping)](https://youtu.be/a5wz55gI42M?t=48s)!  
> (I know that, realistically, competitors have several jumping acts, but I'm going to pretend it's only one and you're all going to roll with me, ok? ok haha)
> 
> Enjoy!

“Fifty seconds!” Paul’s voice boomed across the empty training hangar, Louis spurring Darcy on as they made a sharp turn, galloping for the next obstacle. “Give me sixty five! I want sixty five, Tommo!”

Louis tightened his hold on the reins, gritting his teeth in concentration and shifting his weight off the saddle in preparation for the three sequential gate jumps. He felt Darcy shifting bellow him, the strain of her muscles and the rhythm of her breath, his body automatically adjusting to hers as they went over one, two, three sequential jumps, pulling her reins to the left as the last jump came into view. It was a tricky 5" vertical, so high that if they gave the impulse one second too soon or too late, Darcy would touch the bars and they’d be penalised.

“Louis, come on!” He tuned Paul out, eyes trained on the jump. He held his breath just as they went over the vertical, landing squarely on the other side.

Louis twisted immediately to see the bars still in place, hooting excitedly and clapping Darcy as they made their way over to where Paul stood.

“Well?”

“67.35,” Paul said, jotting it down at the bottom of the long list of jumping times that they’d got today. Louis had lost track of time long ago, but if he had to guess he’d go with eight pm, maybe nine.

His glutes and hamstrings had already gone numb sometime before sunset, so, really, he could do this all night, but Darcy’s neck was stiff where he was petting her. “Maybe that’s it for today, mate. Darcy’s tired, I don’t think we’re gonna get another sixty six today.”

“Yeah, get down. At least there were no bars down on the last 10 laps, so I'm happy about that. Good job, lad.” He looped his fingers around Darcy’s brittle, leading her in the direction of the stables. “I’ll take care of her, alright? Go home, get some rest. I want you on the outdoor paddock as soon as the fog lifts tomorrow.”

Louis groaned, pulling off his riding gloves and helmet as he made his way out of the indoor training paddock. At least with it still being the end of January, ‘when the fog lifts’ could stretch up to 9 AM if he was lucky.

Louis didn't know when he started rooting for bad weather, but twelve hour work shifts could do that to the best of people, he supposed.

***

It was later, when he was fed, showered, receiving a massage from Harry and thinking life was finally worth living again that Niall burst into Harry’s room.

“Lads! I have a matter of the utmost importance to discuss.” Niall announced brightly just as Louis was moaning his appreciation of Harry's hands.

“Don’t you fancy knocking, Ni? I could’ve been balls deep, here.” Harry grumbled from his position straddling Louis’ calves, hands working diligently on his hamstrings.

“Nah, I know what you two sound like when you’re fucking – thin walls and all.” He plopped on Harry’s squeaky desk chair, swivelling. “So, I think Liam’s seeing Sophia Smith from the media office on the down low. Have you lads noticed how he’s been sketchy, lately? It’s either that, or drugs.”

“He does go on a lot of late night runs.” Harry remarked.

“Exactly! He just went for another, just now. Last night I woke up for a wee at, like, four in the morning and he was just getting back. No one is _that_ fitness.”

“Why Sophia Smith, though?” Louis asked, not bothering to open his eyes, face half-smashed into the mattress. If it wasn't from Zayn telling him about the Sophia date, he’d never have known it, seeing as Liam never really mentioned it to any of them.

“He went on a date with her a while ago, according to vet break room gossip. Maybe they’re still seeing each other. He didn't mention anything to you, Lou?”

“Nope.” Louis said, popping the _p_. “Nothing at all.”

“Sketchy, sketchy. I’ll interrogate him as soon as he’s back. Maybe it _is_ drugs.”

“It’s not drugs, Niall. Leave him be, yeah? Liam is a grown man.” Louis stretched his neck, turning his face into the other direction. “Now get out, you’re ruining my zen.”

Niall grumbled, muttering something remarkably similar to _ya shower of cunts_ as he closed the door.

Harry waited until they were alone again to ask, “Did you know about Sophia? I was kind of thinking it could be Zayn. Liam always waits for him to go home before going on his ‘runs’, and he never goes when you’re sleeping there instead of with me.”

“I wouldn't worry about Sophia. If they were really seeing each other since last year we would've known by now, Liam's not really a secretive person.” Louis dragged his arms up from his sides and crossed them at the elbows, leaning his head on it. “Do you know who is, though? _Zayn_.”

“Have you noticed anything weird at the flat?” He dragged Louis’ pants down, squeezing the globes of his arse in each hand for a bit before starting to work on his glutes. “Liam's clothing, extra bottles of lube or condoms in the rubbish bin?”

“Liam's clothing at the flat wouldn't really be telling. I have at least five shirts of his in my wardrobe.” Harry’s hands squeezed a bit harder than necessary at that, Louis hiding his grimace in the sheets. “I wouldn't really be able to tell – I'm sure you've noticed I haven’t been around the flat much.”

“As you should.” He could hear Harry’s smirk as he lowered his head, teeth dragging over the meatiest part of his right arse cheek.

“Don’t sound so smug. You know I'm only here because of the water pressure in your shower.” Louis murmured, mouth twitching. Harry bit down, then, making a chewing sound. “That is a really inappropriate massage, you know.”

“You can tell me if you’re still numb when I'm done, though.” Harry spread his arse cheeks and breathed hotly over his hole, making Louis clench in anticipation.

Louis knew even before Harry lowered his head that he was going to go in tongue first – he always did. It made watching him eat a special kind of arousing torture. Whenever Harry opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out like a _bloody feline_ before taking a bite, Louis always had the crazy urge to say ‘ _That’s how he eats me out, too’_.

He never did, obviously. That knowledge was only his to have.

***

On the next day, Louis knocked on the door that said ‘Caroline Watson, Dressage Trainer’, waiting for the muffled _come in_ before sticking his head into her office.

“Hey, Caroline. Got a minute?”

“Louis, hey.” She looked up from her computer, voice pleasantly surprised. “Paul’s office is in the east wing now, love.”

“I know, that’s why I've been generally avoiding that direction.” He smirked, Caroline smiling indulgently before beckoning him over.

“Alright, then. Have a seat. What can I do for you?”

“Let’s say, if, hypothetically, one wanted to take your trainee on a surprise holiday,” He could feel the back of his neck burning at her knowing smirk, “would they have your cooperation, and what would be the best time to do it?”

“Well, depends on how many days said person wanted to take my athlete away for.” She replied, resting her head on her hand.

“Ten days.” Louis said, hastily adding, “Hypothetically.”

“Ten days? Louis, love.” She smiled, her tone almost patronizing. “Synchronizing your schedules for a ten day break at the same time is not just a technical nightmare, it’s plain _impossible_.” She seemed to take pity on his crestfallen expression, though, adding, “How about this: Six days. That’s the best I can do for you.”

“Six days, Monday through Saturday?” That way they could also have both the previous and following Sunday, making it eight days.

“Provided he comes in to train on the following Sunday, I don’t see why not.” _So close._ Seven days was still a great break, though. “Where are you planning on taking him?”

“Somewhere warm. I was thinking Bali.”

“He’s been to Indonesia, if I'm not mistaken. You can take him there anyway, of course, but just last month he was telling me how he’s never been to the Greek islands.”

“I think they’re kind of cold right now, aren't they? Not as cold as here, but, you know. Not a beach holiday.”

“Now? Oh, no, love. I can’t let Harry go away at least until after the World Cup final. I was thinking more along the lines of July. You’re showing in Hickstead too, aren't you? I'm sure Paul won’t even entertain the idea of you going on holiday before it.”

Louis sighed. She was right. “July, then? Right after Hickstead? It still leaves us a month until the Senior Championships in August.”

“Right after Hickstead works for us. You’ll have to convince Susan to process the off days without letting Harry know, though. She kind of hates me.” Caroline scrunched up her face, both sharing a scoff over the surly dressage programme manager.

“No problem. I’ll run it by Paul and then start the processes. Thank you, Caroline.” He leaned over her table to lay a smacked kiss on her forehead, Caroline laughing and batting him away. He was half out the door when he turned around and stuck his head back in. “Harry mentioned any particular Greek island he wanted to visit?”

“He mentioned Santorini, though with seven days I’d squeeze in at least one more island. I heard Mykonos is a hit with you young folk.”

“Thank you. Thank you, you’re an angel. Don’t forget to keep it secret.”

“Go back to your training and let me work, Louis.” She said, fighting a smile.

***

Susan was difficult to convince, though eventually she caved "in the name of romance" and Harry’s request for six days off in July went in through processing unsigned by him, with only an office memo from his trainer authorizing it.

Both his and Harry’s requests were approved days later, Caroline forwarding him Harry’s confirmation email as Louis was slumped on the sofa, Harry loading the dishwasher after their dinner.

He locked his phone and bolted upstairs, grabbing Harry’s ipad and clicking on his mail app, which was permanently logged on his work email. There was no sign of any message about it, though, so Louis sent a thank you text to Susan and hurried to the shower.

When he re-entered the bedroom, Harry was finishing packing his suitcase. Tomorrow Harry’d fly to Germany for another qualifier, this one unfortunately taking place over a couple of days at the beginning of February, including the day of his birthday. Louis had plans of celebrating when he got back, though, the sex toys purchased especially for the occasion sitting hidden in his dresser at the flat along with Harry’s actual present.

“All packed?” Harry nodded, grinning. “Didn't forget your passport?”

“Nope.” Harry patted a side pocket of his carry on, Louis making note of the placement. His ipad pinged with a notification, Harry leaning over to check it. Louis held his breath, afraid the email would be coming through just now and spoiling his surprise.

“What is it?” He asked, as casually as he could manage, fishing a pair of Harry’s pants out of his drawer.

“Google alerts.”

“What for?” He shook Harry’s scentless deodorant before applying it, hanging his towel over the radiator.

“My name. You don’t have one with yours?” Harry was such a skilled rider that Louis sometimes forgot that this was his first season as a known elite competitor. While Louis’d been in the circuit for over four years now, Harry’s name first rose to fame when he won the World Equestrian Games less than six months ago, Louis finding virtually no articles about him from before that when he did his stalkerish google search after they first met.

“Not since after the fall, no. Not a lot of good articles about me, then.” Reading every news article that came out about you was a dangerous game that could get sour really fast, Louis knew from experience. “Maybe you should turn that alert off, babe. It doesn't really influence your performance what they’re writing about you.”

“I know, but I like reading them. My mum keeps sending them to my email anyway, it wouldn't do much of a difference if I turned it off.” Harry grinned, getting up from the bed after saving the article into his reading list. “You smell good.” He nosed at Louis’ neck, hands inching around his waist.

“And you smell like horse. Go shower and then bed, you have to be up in the middle of the night for your flight.”

“Yes, sir.” He grinned, pinching Louis’ bum as he left the room.

Louis waited until he heard the shower running to open Harry’s suitcase and retrieve his passport, snapping photos of all the information he’d need to book Harry’s flight to Greece. He quickly replaced it in its pocket and flung himself onto the mattress, heart hammering.

Opening Harry’s email or going through his stuff were things Louis would never do under normal circumstances, but he truly did want for their trip to be a surprise, so he’d have to swallow his guilt. In the name of romance, as Susan said.

***

The shrill tone of Harry’s alarm pulled Louis from sleep with a jolt. He couldn't for the life of him understand how Harry was such a heavy sleeper, still snoring softly from his position as the little spoon in the warm bed.

Louis leaned over him to turn the alarm off, managing to knock Harry’s phone to the floor in the process, and flopped on top of him, nosing at his hair until his mouth was level with Harry’s ear and he could press a sucking, annoying smooch right at the entrance of Harry’s ear canal.

“Ugh. I'm up, stop it!” He flipped Louis off him easily – damn bigger size – and sat up, finger tugging at his ear. “Do you have to do that every time?” He grumbled moodily, voice sleep rough.

“You know you’d go back to sleep if I didn't.” Louis mumbled, stretching, his leg rubbing on Harry’s. “What time does your delegation leave for the airport?”

“Three.” He mumbled, making to lie back down.

“No, no. Up you go.” Louis pushed his back off the bed, rolling onto his spot and turning the lamp on. “Niall up already?”

“Yeah, he’s probably already at the centre loading the horses onto the travelling stalls.” Harry got up, going to the chair where he’d left his travelling outfit sorted and pulling his shirt on very, very slowly. Louis watched as he tried and failed to put on his skinnies while standing up, swaying this way and the other until he almost knocked himself down.

“You’re sleep drunk. Give me ten jumping jacks or I'm not letting you drive to the centre.”

“Of course I'm sleep drunk, it’s the middle of the night.” He ruffed, finally able to get his two legs into the fabric. “And I'm not giving you no bloody jumping jacks.”

“Hm, did I tell you already how much I love your charming morning personality?” Louis mumbled, stretching luxuriously one last time before getting up.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, brows furrowed, as Louis pulled on a pair of Harry’s sweats that were lying around.

“I'm driving you to the centre, of course. Don’t want you driving off into a creek after falling asleep on the wheel.”

“Lou.” Harry approached him, kissing his forehead as it emerged from the hoodie Louis was pulling on.

“It’s fine, Haz. It’s not like I’ll be able to fall back asleep here without you, I’ll just drive back to the flat once I drop you off, ok?” He cradled Harry’s cheeks and pecked him.

“You can stay here.” Harry kissed his nose, “You can sleep here every night that I'm gone.” his right cheek, “Keep my bed smelling like you.” his left cheek.

“I just might.” He smiled, eyes crinkling. “Let’s go, rider boy. That qualifier is not gonna win itself.”

***

He entered his flat soon after dropping Harry off at the centre, the delegation bus that would take them to Heathrow already packed with the other riders on the dressage team and their respective trainers, grooms and vets.

The air in the living room smelled foreign, and Louis realised with a start that he hadn't been home, not even to pick up a change of clothing, in over three days. A fleeting stab of guilt passed through him, but was quickly quelled – if Zayn thought he was being an absent flatmate he’d have had no qualms in telling him already.

A rhythmic, squeaky noise reached Louis’ ears, his curiosity spiking as he toed off his vans and tiptoed closer to Zayn's bedroom door. The door was ajar but the angle didn't allow for him to see into the room. Two sets of moans could be heard, both masculine voices, and Louis was already unlocking his phone, a devious smile in place, when a moaned _Zayn_ floated out, louder than the rest, and Louis’ eyes bulged out as his hand flew to his mouth.

That was Liam's voice. _Liam's voice. Fuck._  

He’d figured – _hoped_ – that they hadn't brushed off their kiss on the day of the Mary Jane party but _this –_

He hadn't expected this.

“Oh, fuck, Li. _Fuck!_ "

Louis’ face crumpled in an effort to stay silent, his fingers nervous as he found Harry’s Whatsapp conversation and held his fingers over the record button until he was satisfied he’d captured enough sound. He tiptoed into his bedroom, closing the door as softly as he could and face-planted into his bed, the sounds thankfully muffled. Harry’s status changed to _online_ and then _typing…_ , even though Louis thought he’d crashed as soon as he got on the bus.

_I've been gone for 20 minutes and you’re already watching porn without me_

**NOT PORN!!!! ZAYN AND LIAM!!!!!**

_OMGGGGG!!!!_

_Wait, and you recorded it?? LOUIS_

**I’D BE FILMING IF IT WOULDN'T BE EVEN GROSSER!!!**

**THIS IS GOLDEN BLACKMAIL MATERIAL**

_NO_

_don’t let them know you know they’re fucking_

_go back to the house_

**are you kidding me?**

**there's no one there**

**since Liam's here FUCKING ZAYN**

_rly? I kind of always pegged Liam for a bottom_

_it’s the puppy dog eyes_

**figure of speech**

**I don’t know who’s topping**

**and I honestly don’t want to know**

**ew**

_don't let them know you know, seriously_

**why not??? I'm dying to tease the shit out of them once they put some clothes on**

_Lou cmon_

_don't be a little shit_

_let them tell us at their pace_

_we fucking called it though_

_high five!_

**HIGH FIVE**

**fine I’ll go back to the house**

**I’ll have to fucking move there at this pace**

_fine by me ;)_

_eyes are closing_

_text you when I land_

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

***

February flew by in a flurry of damp, too early training sessions and late night tired, sleepy kisses. Now that Louis and Harry knew what to look for, it was easy for them to notice how often Zayn and Liam were mysteriously absent at the same time. It was impressive, really, their stamina for sex, especially when Louis himself was barely surviving his pre-Grand Prix training schedule.

To increase his winning chances, Paul had managed to write him into one last qualifier three weeks before it was due to take place in Switzerland mid-March. They'd trained like madmen during that period, forgoing days off altogether, though Louis was always attuned to Darcy, making sure he wasn't overworking her.

Harry was no better off, rehearsing his routines to exhaustion, and more than once one of them fell asleep mid-cuddle session on the meagre hours they had alone in the evenings. Though a part of Louis sometimes worried that sex twice a week at best wasn't enough to justify sharing a bed in the other five days, he supposed it wasn't fair to compare them to Zayn and Liam, who had lighter schedules and were smack-dab in the middle of their honeymoon phase.

Besides, the confirmation that he and Harry could find joy and comfort in each other besides sex was almost enough to keep him from constantly daydreaming about their upcoming seven days of doing nowt but tanning and fucking in Greece. Almost.

***

The Switzerland qualifier was as gorgeous, well organized and well executed as one would expect from the country of the Fédération Equestre Internationale headquarters. The three days he spent in Zurich were surprisingly pleasant, despite the weeks of hellish training regimen that preceded it in order for Darcy to prepare for the jumping circuit on such short notice.

He scanned the crowded ballroom during the closing ceremony, already looking forward to his hotel bed, when he spotted Simon talking to a middle aged woman Louis recognized as Shirley Assef, a known face in the world of Equestrian benefactors whose equally multi-millionaire husband shared her passion. He made his way over, drink in hand, thinking about how ironic it was that for once Simon was the one avoiding him during these kind of events.

“Good evening, Simon. Mrs Assef.” Louis took her hand in his, bringing his lips to it in a ghost of a kiss. “Have you enjoyed yourselves during the competition?"

“Oh, Mr Tomlinson! Charming as ever, young man, so lovely to see you.” Shirley smiled at him, her neck adorned in more diamonds than Louis’d seen through the night, combined. “I was just telling Mr Cowell here how lucky he is to own such a talented horse, and with an even more talented rider on top of it! I won’t be able to attend the final, as America is too far away and I have business to tend to here, but I wish you the best of luck, though based on your performance tonight I'm sure you won’t need it. You've outdone yourself, darling, truly.”

He smiled, bashful. “Thank you, madam, though I will take all the luck thrown my way.” They shared a polite smile, “With your passionate dedication to equestrian sports, I would've thought you owned enough horses to make your own delegation by now.”

Shirley laughed, delighted, Simon looking between them with a confused, yet amused, face.

“Oh, I don’t own any, no. Not by choice, that’s for sure. I’d love to, but all the good ones are already taken by people too stubborn to sell, isn't it right, Simon?”

“It sure is, Shirley.” Simon laughed his _‘offer me double the money and I’ll consider it’_ laugh. Louis was familiar with it.

“Have you ever considered owning a horse that competes in other disciplines? Dressage, for example?”

“Oh, I think dressage is wonderful! Gorgeous really, so sophisticated. Shame our Britain never really fares well in competitions, isn't it? If it won as much medals as showjumping I’d most definitely consider it, yes.”

“Surely you haven’t been following this season closely, then? Just seven months ago Britain won gold in Freestyle Individual at the World Equestrian Games. I was there, obviously, and I've been following the discipline pretty closely since then. I think it was the start of a change in scenario for British Dressage.”

“Really?” She turned to him, both now completely ignoring Simon. “I had no idea, Mr Tomlinson, it’s true I haven’t followed dressage in a while. What’s the horse’s name?”

“It’s called Valegro. A pretty young dutch warmblood, only ten years old if I'm not mistaken. Both horse and rider are new in the Grand Prix circuit, but they've been faring fantastically well so far, you can look up their scores yourself. They’re most folk’s favourite for winning the World Cup next month, and even the Olympics next year.”

“Fascinating. Do you happen to know who owns the horse?”

“It’s still owned by the rider’s family, though they've been getting some tempting offers as of late. I think they’re looking for a co-owner. I suppose these days the only way of having sole ownership of a medallist horse is by having the forethought to buy it before it actually wins the medal _and_ having the funds to support it after it wins.” Louis pondered, tone innocent. “For a horse like Valegro, which already has a World Equestrian Games gold medal under its name, a co-owning arrangement is as good as it gets, I believe.”

“Oh, but if they’re really selling I must look into it immediately!” She exclaimed, eyes wide. “Such great news that we've finally got a strong team for dressage, too. It’s been too long.”

“It certainly has. If you want, I can arrange for you to meet both rider and horse. After you've done your research and reached your own conclusions, of course.”

“Oh, I’d do nothing less. You know me well, Mr Tomlinson.” She said, patting his cheek. “I’ll go find my husband now, if you gentlemen will excuse me. I have some exciting news to share!” She winked at them, retreating into the mass of guests.

Simon turned to him, expression amused. “You’re managing the Styles kid, now? Do I have competition in the business?”

“Oh, shut up.” Louis scoffed, watching her retreating back. “I'm just helping a friend out. What are you even doing here?”

“I was in the country on business, felt like stretching the trip for three more days to catch up with my beautiful Tigre.”

Louis rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his champagne. “What, have you forgotten her stable name? And when was the last time you got within three feet of her, anyway?”

Simon’s brows rose. “Snappy, are we? Surely you’re not still sour over our little miscommunication incident, are you?”

“You mean when you wrote me in a competition that would completely wreck my training schedule and overwork me and your horse for months on end without even consulting me? Whatever reason would I have to be sour, Simon?” His pitch rose slightly in sarcasm as he gave him a sickening sweet smile.

“Yes, things got a little rough, but when were they ever easy? Look at your scores from today! Four qualifiers and you’re still enjoying a comfortable lead. Everything points at you winning the World Cup – I even have money on it!”

“I could not be, though. You keep forgetting that Darcy is not the same age as Cella was. I didn't know if she’d pull through until she did.”

“I knew you’d work around it. Look at me, Louis. Do you think I've got to where I am today by taking unnecessary risks?” He took a sip of his champagne, not waiting for Louis to respond. “No, of course not! If I wrote you in it’s because I knew you would deliver. _You’re_ the one that has that nasty habit of yours of downplaying your own skill. I know it, same way as I did when you were that skinny Doncaster lad riding in rubber boots. I trust my eye for talent.”

“Don’t pull the nostalgic bullshit on me, now. I'm too old and too sober to fall for it.” Louis’ eyes did a quick scan of their surroundings before fixing on Simon, his tone lowering. “That manoeuvre of yours worked out well enough for you, this time. But it’s the last you’ll do something of the sort. Next time you try to strong arm me into competing on more events than your horse can handle, you’re gonna have a _no show_ in your hands.”

They stared at each other, unwavering, guests moving around them.

“I don’t like your tone, Louis.”

“And I don’t like being manipulated, so I guess we’re even.” Louis responded, not missing a beat.

Simon continued to stare him down, his eyes calculating.

“No one is irreplaceable.”

Louis’ mouth rose at the corner, his tone sarcastic as he responded, “Hm, see, but I guess I am. It’s just like you said, really. Try and find someone who can maintain a pole position attending less than half of the qualifiers and then get back to me on my replaceability.”

Simon stared at him for almost a full minute before erupting in a belly laugh so deep Louis and several nearby guests jumped slightly.

“See, that’s why I like you, Tomlinson.” He wiped at the corner of his eyes, switching his empty flute for a fresh one. “Fair enough. You think you can play the equestrian world better than me, you control the competitions you attend, then. Never mind that I've been doing this for more years than you've been alive.”

“And I've been riding for half my life, while I'm pretty sure you've never even got on top of a horse. I know what Darcy can and cannot take. It might've escaped your notice, but we're not robotic money-making machines.”

“Like I said, the reins are, quite literally, in your hands. As long as you still show at Hickstead and compete in the Senior Championships, I'm happy.”

“Well, as long as you’re happy, then.” Louis smirked, sarcastic.

He started to turn, wanting desperately to find Liam or a stronger drink, whichever came first, when Simon held his arm, his tone for Louis’ ears only.

“I am not the enemy, Louis, and you’d do well to stop treating me as one. Don’t forget that knowing how to ride a horse is only a _small_ portion of what makes an athlete successful in the equestrian world. You've been around long enough – you've seen the amount of metaphorical horse shit that’s swept under the rug around here. We might not always see eye to eye, but you might never truly know how lucky you are to have had me on your side since the beginning.” Louis stayed still, staring straight ahead, Simon’s tone conversational again. “Let’s take a walk through the park of ‘nostalgic bullshit’, shall we? Right on the day we met, I could've cost you your stable boy summer job, plus a big lawsuit for your uncle’s ranch, couldn't I? Or, more recently, when the most expensive, skilled horse I've ever owned broke its neck under your riding and instead of dropping you I bought a new horse and had you ride it too? Forgot about that?”

“ _Of course I haven’t._ ” Louis gritted through his teeth, fighting the prickling at the back of his eyes.

“Good. And I'm not trying to throw anything at your face, but you seem awfully forgetful as of late. I suppose the Styles kid will be a good practical example of what happens when a young, talented boy like _you_ once were doesn't have someone like _me_ watching over them. Then you’ll appreciate me more.”

“What do you mean? What’s that supposed to mean?” Alarm bells sounded in Louis’ head, the memory of his fall immediately pushed to the back of his mind.

“Well, since you’re so generously helping out your _friend_ , let me extend the courtesy chain by telling you this –“ He dropped his voice again, “Tell that boy to be very, very careful of how he refuses Magge’s offer and to keep both eyes out. Tell him not to sign anything, not even a bloody pub napkin.”

“Wait, Magge? As in Henrik Magge? He was the one who put an offer for Bean?”

“You didn't know that?” He paused. “And what kind of bloody stable name is that for a horse?”

“ _Shit_.” Henrik Magge was known in the equestrian underworld for his dishonesty and predatory approach. Louis’d heard enough horror stories of riders who had their careers ruined by him over insurance money to know he was bad fucking news.

“Shit, indeed.” Simon agreed, nonplussed. “Now, off the top of my head I can think of three reasons why your boy Styles wouldn't tell you who made the offer. He either doesn't trust you, doesn't want to worry you, or doesn't know better – And I sincerely hope it’s not the third option. Heaven knows I'm not exactly on my way to canonization, but Henrik Magge wanting to get his claws on a horse whose owner doesn't even know _who is_ Henrik Magge? That boy doesn't stand a chance.”

***

“Hey, you’re freaking out. I told you already, granny refused his offer over the phone, with my mum by her side. They never signed anything. They just said, very politely, that they weren't interested in selling full ownership of the horse.”  Harry smashed the door of his locker shut, sitting on the bench and starting to pull on his training boots. “My grandparents have been buying and selling horses ever since before I was born, I don’t think they’d be scammed that easily. Besides, the whole conversation had nothing to do with me, I've never even met the man. Why would he set out on a witch hunt for my career?”

“ _Because_ he’s an unscrupulous motherfucker who wants your horse, and he knows the main reason your family’s not selling is _you_. The shit I've seen over the years, Harry, you have no idea.” Louis threw his empty breakfast tea in the rubbish bin, pulling his shirt over his head as he went to stand in front of his locker. It was his first day back since the Switzerland qualifier, his next competition being the World Cup final itself, but all Louis could think about was the possibility of Harry being Magge's next target. “These white-collared types of crimes get swept under the rug all the time here, you know as well as I do that the delegation feeds off of this illusion that riding would only interest educated, civil people, but the backstabbing runs rampant behind the scenes.”

“You don’t think I know that? Louis, my earliest memory is attending a horse show with my grandparents. I grew up on top of a horse. I know you've been in the British team before, but I'm not some young, naïve thing.” Harry grumbled, bending over to tuck his riding trousers inside his boots.

“Look, I know you can take care of yourself. I'm just trying to help.” He sighed as he shoved his rumpled sweatpants down, pulling a pair of riding trousers that probably needed a wash out of his locker. His mind flashed back to the beginning of training and how long he used to spend on his appearance trying to impress Harry. Now, less than one month away from the World Cup final, Louis counted still regularly wearing clean pants as a victory. “Be extra careful of your image. We’ll hold off on the weed until the season ends, no drinking near competitions. Watch out for what you say in interviews, every word can have its meaning twisted.”

“Look at you, going all protective mama bear on me.” Louis felt arms circling his waist, Harry pulling him to lean against his chest. “It’s cute.”

“Don’t call someone who had your cock down their throat just this morning ‘mama bear’. That’s twisted.” Louis’ head lolled back to rest against Harry’s shoulder as he slumped back against him. Harry was warm and felt like home, his breath smelling like Louis’ toothpaste as it fanned across his face with Harry’s laugh.

“Don’t try to get me going. Caroline’s already waiting for me at the training hangar.”

“You don’t fancy a locker room quickie?” Louis wiggled his bum against Harry's crotch, Harry looking down at him with an indulgent smile.

“It’d be wicked hot…” Harry nipped his ear, squeezing his waist once more before stepping back. “Except I don’t really fancy facing disciplinary action after someone walks in on us.”

“ _What_? What happened to the adventurous lad who gave me head in the south stables?” Louis asked, mock-indignant. “Are we already losing the spark?”

“First you say I've got to be careful with my image, and then you proposition me right at the beginning of the busiest hour of the locker room? I can already see the headlines,” He spread his hands on an invisible banner, a distant look in his eyes. “ _Equestrian Scandal – Nation shocked as two male riders get caught riding more than just the horses inside the British training grounds_.”

Louis’ cackle reverberated off the empty space, both falling into a fit of laughter as, as if on cue, a pair of riders from the eventing team entered the locker room.

***

March turned into April, the tentative spring warmth bringing in the competition jitters to the atmosphere. Louis took to having bizarre dreams where he'd fall off of Darcy in the middle of the final and be seriously injured. A wolf wearing a suit, which his subconscious automatically assumed to be Magge, would then take advantage of the ensuing chaos and kidnap Harry while Louis watched from the ground, hurt and unable to prevent it.

His anguish was thankfully short-lived, as he always woke up tangled in Harry, warm and tangible and _real_ in his arms, his scent instantly soothing Louis back to sleep. Though he knew it was normal for his subconscious to react to the stress, it didn't mean he could brush the dreams off as easily as he wished to. He’d often remember bits of it during the day, a vague sense of dread settling in his gut.

***

_"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We’ll begin our landing sequence into McCarran International Airport shortly. Please adjust your watches to 7 pm local time, the weather is a pleasant 21 degrees. Thank you for flying British Airways, and welcome to Las Vegas."_

Louis slowly regained awareness as one of the members of the cabin crew asked Paul to return his tray table to the upright position, the captain announcing the landing. He had a brief moment of disorientation before the ever-present thick ball of nerves set low on his stomach again. The World Cup final would officially begin for them tomorrow as the paddocks would be opened for warm-ups and he’d have the opportunity to walk the course he’d be jumping with Darcy.

Louis got up from his seat, peering around the business class area of their plane, almost completely filled with the jumping and dressage delegations. He could see a long mop of wavy hair and a heeled boot peeking over the side of a seat a few rows over, but he couldn't see if Harry was awake over the dimmed lights of the cabin. Sitting back down, Louis looked out the window. The cluster of buildings and large, sprawling avenues surrounded by the barren landscape of the Nevada desert contrasted with the winding streets of his London in new, exciting ways. The mountains to the west were a black mass against the oranges of the sunset, the Las Vegas Strip shining like a neon beacon against the impending darkness. The new places his job took him were one of his favourite aspects of his profession, though Louis knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on much else until he’d jumped the final.

He wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt, bringing his finger to his mouth in a nervous biting habit before remembering his nails had been manicured for the competition and forcing himself to lower his hand to his lap. The ball of nerves on his gut gave another somersault, his leg jiggling in a nervous rhythm. _Show time_.

***

Louis’ head was fuzzy with jetlag by the time he dragged himself out of the lift into his hotel floor. They’d all headed straight to the competition venue after the complicated process of herding a bunch of stressed horses off their flying stalls, checking them into their assigned competition stables and tucking them in for the night. Louis’d stayed behind with Darcy as long as he could, talking to her and checking for signs of discomfort, but eventually their 11 hour flight from London took its toll on him too and he’d left the venue in time to catch the last event shuttle to their _Officials and Riders_ designated hotel.

He almost bumps into Josh, his assigned roommate, on his way into the room.

“Oh, hey, mate.” Louis eyed the luggage the other man was hauling behind him. “Going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I'm switching rooms with Harry. Just came to get my bag.” Josh grinned at him, eyebrows waggling playfully.

“ _Oh_. You, uh. You don’t have to do that.” Louis felt a flush creeping up his neck. He and Harry were definitely the training centre’s worst kept secret.

“Yeah, I know. It’s cool though. You should've seen his face when I suggested it.” Josh winked, hand on the doorknob. “See you tomorrow at warm-ups?”

”Yeah, definitely. Thanks, mate.” Louis smiled as Josh closed the door, leaving him alone in the room.

He turned and inspected the suite, two standard double beds with a seating area by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room was simple enough but Louis didn't mind, they barely spent any time inside the hotels when the competitions were in full swing. The view made up for it though, overlooking the west side of the Las Vegas Strip and the mountains he’d seen from the plane beyond it, now completely obscured by the night.

He ordered two sets of burgers and ‘fries’ ( _when in America…_ ) before making his way into the shower to wash off the long flight.

***

“I don’t think I can fit another chip into my stomach.” Harry groaned from besides him as Louis stretched to put the tray with their leftovers on the floor. His belly made a weird noise as he flopped onto his back, Harry’s socked foot hooking over his.

“You’d think a lifetime of full English breakfasts would prepare us better for greasy American food.”

“All the harsh browns of our youth…”

“Ugh. I can’t even think about it right now.” Louis turned onto his side, Harry’s neck stretching to peck his lips before settling back onto the pillow, his lashes moving slowly. “Don’t sleep on me, Haz. Just a few more hours and we can beat jetlag on the first day.”

“But we can count today as an _early_ early night. I'm completely beat.”

“Just one more hour. You’ll thank me tomorrow.” Louis’ hand smoothed over Harry’s pecks and his slightly stretched stomach. “Our burger baby.”

Harry snorted, hand coming up to cover Louis’ over his belly. “Aw, babe, you want to be a daddy?”

Louis squinted, regarding Harry suspiciously. “I can’t even tell if you mean this in a kinky way or not.”

“Wh- _What_?” Harry laughed, incredulous. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Louis Tomlinson. I was being cute.”

“But if I did get my mind off the gutter you’d get all lonely in there, babe.” Louis straddled him, nosing at his neck and collarbones as his hand sneaked to cup Harry’s crotch.

“You’d best not risk a blowjob on this full a stomach.” Harry deadpanned, holding Louis against his body as Louis groaned and tried to get off of him.

“Way to kill the mood, rider boy.”

Harry nipped at his ear, rolling them over and settling between Louis’ legs. Their mouths found each other’s, Louis drawing Harry’s tongue into his mouth and sucking on it, their hips grinding lazily. Harry smelled like Louis’ shampoo and his own warm, earthy scent. Louis got lost in it, his body moving without conscious thought or deliberation as he explored Harry’s body with taste, touch and smell. It was an altogether familiar and foreign feeling, his mind fuzzy and blank as he surrendered to the all-encompassing pull he felt towards his boy.

“God, I miss having sex with you.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say when I _literally_ have my hand down your pants.” Harry remarked, voice rough, his other hand pinching Louis’ nipple over his shirt.

Louis laughed, breath stuttering on a particularly skilled twist of Harry’s hand. “You know what I mean, you knob. _Bum sex_.”

“ _Bum sex_? Oh yeah, Lou. Talk dirty to me.” Harry murmured around a smile, planting a smacked kiss behind his ear. “It could always be worse. We could be professional swimmers. I heard Michael Phelps hadn't had any kind of sex in years prior to his Olympic medal.”

"I highly doubt that’s true." Louis grumbled, twisting and rearranging them until he was straddling Harry again. "Only two more nights until your final, though. Then I'll fuck you six ways till Sunday in celebration of your victory. You won’t be able to ride a horse for days."

"How do you-" Harry's breath hitched as Louis’s hand sneaked into his sweats and wrapped around his pulsing cock, "I might not win. You don't know that."

"Oh, but I do." Louis whispered near his ear, pausing to pull Harry’s pants down until his cock bobbed free, hand squeezing at the base and twisting at the head as he thumbed Harry's slit. "You're so good, baby, the best, I swear. Out on the paddock, the way you look - it takes my breath away. _Fuck_ – Your talent, your discipline, your work ethic and your kindness to your horse. You're so good, baby, so, _so_ good. And you're going to win, I have no doubt in my mind you'll win."

Harry whined, face screwed up, his cock throbbing in Louis' hand. His hand dragged up Louis’ thigh to wrap around his cock and continue to wank him, dragging his foreskin up and down in rhythm with Louis’ hand. "Fuck, Lou. I'm coming."

Louis kissed him then, his wrist straining to hold the angle and speed Louis knew Harry liked best. His other hand stroked his face, fingers running through the seam of their mouths even as they kissed, carding through Harry’s hair and pulling as Harry pulsed between their bodies.

"How's that for dirty talk?" Louis smirked, hand slowing as his other elbow held him above Harry's flushed face. "I fucking love that praise does it for you, you know. Wait 'till you win. I'll make you come so hard you'll see stars." Harry laughed breathily, hand picking up speed again on Louis’ dick.

"I'm sure you will. You love fucking me, don't you, Lou? Love feeling me stretched around you, gripping you. You miss it, baby? Miss making me come on your cock? Having me desperate for you, begging you to give it to me hard?"

“ _Yes_. Fuck yeah I miss it. Think about it so much. Oh – Fuck!” Louis’ hips stuttered, his come pulsing onto Harry’s hands and the sheets. “ _Fuck._ ”

He collapsed on top of Harry, both breathing heavily as they tried to catch their breath.

“About that extra hour awake.” Harry murmured, voice rough. “I don’t really think I can’t make it.”

“It’s fine.” Louis smiled, propping his chin on Harry’s chest. “You want to move to the other bed first? You know, the one not stained with burger grease and come?”

“Sure. As soon as get my motor function back.”

They smiled at each other, grins pleased and fond in the quiet of the room.

"I mean it, you know. It’s not just dirty talk. You're the best dressage rider I've ever seen. The World Equestrian Games were just the beginning, baby, you've got _so much_ ahead of you."

Harry bit his lip, making a couple of aborted attempts at speaking before settling on, "Sometimes I wonder if that medal was just, like, beginner's luck. I see how well you handle the pressure, the criticism, the sponsors, the team directors – and I worry that eventually everybody'll see that when I'm not on top of my horse, I'm still a bit lost."

"Hey, but you've got the riding part down to a T. That's the most important part. The rest will follow, ok?" He pecked Harry's nose, hands carding through his hair. "And what's that about handling the pressure well? I've been shitting myself since December."

They shared a laugh, so close their noses bumped and Louis went a little cross-eyed trying to keep eye contact. "You fake it really well, then. No one would know by watching your competition interviews."

“Well, that’s the goal, innit? Fake it till you make it.”

***

Louis perused the main lobby of the venue, spectators just starting to trickle in for the dressage freestyle final. Harry's sister had driven up from Los Angeles and was due to arrive at any second now.

"Louis?" A cheerful voice sounded from behind him, and Louis turned to see a blonde with a familiar complexion and deep set dimples smiling at him. "Hi, I'm Gemma, Harry's sister." She extended her hand, her eyes doing a quick scan of him. "Wow, the website pictures really don't do you justice. _Well done_ , little bro."

A startled laugh escaped him, his face burning as he shook her hand. Apparently shamelessness was a family trait. "Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you. And, uh, thanks, I guess?"

"So, am I super late? I had a meeting run late this morning and the traffic out of LA was awful."

"No, you're just in time for the competition, but Harry had to start warming up, so I've been sent to smuggle you into the back area." He gestured for a STAFF ONLY corridor to the side of the lobby, the two of them starting to head in that direction.

"Oh, we're going backstage? Nice. I haven't watched from the competitor bay in years, ever since I moved to America. Didn't inherit the equestrian gene, you know. I can barely stay upright on top of a horse, keep leaning to the left." She grinned, Louis dividing his attention between her and nodding to the people that recognised him as they weaved their way through the crowded corridors of the competitor area.

"Harry mentioned that you work in telly, innit? Producer, I think?"

"Yeah, that's right." She smiled, pleased. "I'm doing a reality show now, which I kind of hate, but it's supposed to be a door opener, you know? Plus, the money is great."

"What would you like to do, ultimately?"

"TV series. I don’t have a preference as to what about, I can imagine myself producing something from The Sopranos to Sex and the City and loving both. I’d also like to move back to London, at some point.” She shrugged, looking around the space.

“Wicked. That must be a really cool job. Harry always shows me your pictures with famous people.”

“Does he?” She grinned, eyebrows raised. “He talks an awful lot about you, too. I feel like I already know you.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Louis bit down a smile, the two entering the cleared area behind the competition paddock, Harry’s back to them as he finished adjusting Bean’s bit. “Hey, curly, look who I've got here.”

Harry turned around with a dopey grin, launching himself onto his sister with more force than someone his size ought to use. Louis smiled, stepping aside to give them some privacy and going to pet Bean’s coat. “Hey, mate. Look at you, all decked out in your competition saddle.” He whispered to Bean, running his hand through his trimmed horse hair. “You know what you and I have in common? We both really want to make Harry happy. You’re gonna try your best in there, aren't you?” Bean huffed, tail swishing. “I know, bud. Good luck.”

***

"Shit, he's really good. I don't remember him being this good." Gemma whispered, the both of them hanging back at the competitor bay, eyes glued to Harry as he trotted around, performing a complex choreography on top of Bean.

"He's been training really hard." Louis whispered back, shutting up as Caroline turned to them with a dirty look, Niall, Liam and the rest of the dressage crew at her side.

Louis' heart hammered as he watched Harry's horse twist and turn, moving across the paddock diagonally like it didn't cost him a thing. Louis was sure the judges would pick up on something but as far as he could see Harry was being perfect, the best of the night without a doubt. He watched as Harry trotted to the centre of the paddock in preparation for the last sequence of his choreography, a set of moves Louis'd seen enough times during rehearsals to have it committed to memory.

He watched with batted breath as Bean moved on a trotted pirouette as the soundtrack drew to its climax, the crowd erupting in applause as they finished in perfect synchrony.

They’d been perfect. He hugged Gemma, laughing, as Harry clapped his horse in the back, hugging him from his position still mounting him, and did a last lap around the paddock, thanking the judges and the audience.

Louis was in the middle of hugging Liam when something made the audience cheer louder. He turned to see Caroline jumping up and down, screaming in joy, Niall cursing in between exclamations of “Legend!” and Gemma staring in shock at the score panel. He looked at it to see 94.45% shinning on the electronic panel.

His jaw dropped open. Harry’d broken a competition _record_.

He stared at the panel, not quite able to comprehend it. His eyes slid automatically to Harry, arm up and frozen mid-wave as he, too, stared slack jawed at his own score.

Louis whooped in joy as Harry’s head turned to him, eyebrows raised, the two of them locking eyes across the open space. Harry’s disbelieving laugh was as clear to his ears across the crowded gymnasium as it would've been if Harry was right by his side.

Louis blew him a kiss, having to consciously refrain from invading the paddock and sprinting to him, his heart too big for his chest and his adoration for his boy burning too bright.

***

Louis was eyeing a nondescript appetizer, pondering if it was worth biting into, when Harry got back to his side from walking Gemma to her car. He seemed off, gaze distant and sad, raising alarm bells within Louis.

“Hey. Everything ok with Gemma?”

“What? Oh, uh.” Harry shifted his eyes from side to side, Louis’ brows scrunching together. “Yeah. She couldn’t be persuaded to stay here tonight, something about a business lunch tomorrow. I'm just not sure about her driving all the way to Los Angeles in the dark.” Harry pouted, mouth twisting. “You gonna eat that? I’m starving.”

“No, have at it.” Louis said cautiously, holding the appetizer for Harry to bite into. There was something Harry was not telling him. A waitress came by, then, Harry snagging a champagne flute for himself and water for Louis.

“We should be going back to the room soon. Have you well rested for your final tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to go, Haz. It’s your victory party.” They were at a cocktail party promoted by one of the sponsors following the dressage final – Harry had arrived soon after receiving his medal and finishing the customary round of interviews and press photos.

“But I want to. Besides, I recall being promised _bum sex_ tonight.” He grinned, Louis’ hand trying to muffle his laughter.

“Fine, go do one more round of arse-kissing and we’ll go. Go on, _mingle mingle_ , social butterfly.” Louis shooed him, taking a gulp of his water and going to find Niall.

***

Louis’ fingers made a delicious squelching noise as they moved and twisted inside of Harry, his cock throbbing in anticipation.

“ _Lou._ Quit teasing, _fuck_.” Harry threw his head back, looking flushed and debauched as he laid down in their hotel bed wearing only his gold medal.

“Now, now, if only you’d ask me politely.” Harry threw him a glare that dissolved into a blissed out eye roll as Louis’ fingers rubbed expertly on his prostate, his other hand fondling his balls.

He’d lost track of time of how long he’d been fingering Harry, bringing him to the brink before retreating his fingers and watching him whine frustratedly and hump the air. It was a sight, really, Harry spread out for him, moaning pitifully as his pink, wet hole clenched on nothing, cock an angry, bobbing crimson as his hands clenched obediently by his side, chest heaving with his sweat and medal glistening on top of it. Louis was in no hurry.

“Louis, I don’t want to say yellow, but if you don’t put your cock in me _right this second_ I swear to god- Oh-“ He lost his voice as Louis took him into his mouth, sucking vigorously as he pushed three fingers inside. Louis bobbed his head down, concentrating on opening his throat, but Harry was _big_ and he choked anyway. Harry mumbled something incoherent, beyond himself at this point, and Louis held on, tears springing to his eyes as his throat contracted around Harry’s cock, the sucking never letting on.

Harry’s hips moved, trying to ground himself on Louis’ fingers and fuck his mouth at the same time, and when Louis drew back he started a whiny chant of “ _No no no, please Lou, please, I'm begging, let me come, fuck me, please.”_

Louis smirked, watching the scene bellow him. Harry could be stubborn but Louis was infinitely patient, and he got his begging when he wanted it. “Okay, baby, I’ll fuck you, _shhh_ , I’ll give you what you want. Everything for my champion, innit?” He squeezed Harry’s creamy thighs, watching his frantic nodding before reaching for the condom he’d set aside earlier. He asked, “Pass me the lube, will you, baby?” as he rolled it on.

Harry reached for the lube they’d tossed aside, but the bottle was open and Harry gripped it too hard, squirting lube everywhere, over them both and on the bed. “Look at the mess you’ve made, you messy, _messy_ boy.” Louis smirked, swiping the lube that’d splattered on his chest and using it to pump his cock. He fell forward, hovering over Harry on his hands and knees. Their eyes locked, mirth dancing inside, and Louis descended into a push up position, his arms flexing as he bent them at the elbows, muscles supporting his weight. He pecked Harry and straightened again. “How do you want it, champion? Hands and knees? I know that one’s a hit with you.” He winked, smiling crookedly.

Harry eyed the seating area by the floor to ceiling windows, smiling wickedly before rolling Louis off of him and standing up, pulling Louis up after him. Louis laughed as Harry pulled him by the hand, letting Harry manhandle him into sitting in a chair that he dragged near the window until it almost touched the glass.

“You want to give the people of Las Vegas a show?” He smiled, spreading his legs a bit and patting his lap. They were high enough that people on the ground wouldn’t be able to make out any discernible features. Or at least, Louis hoped so. Harry smiled coyly, gripping Louis’ shoulder for support as he swung one leg over Louis’ lap. “Haven’t you already showed them what a good rider you are today?”

Harry smirked, lining himself up and sinking down on Louis’s cock slowly, tortuously, until Louis was completely buried inside him. Then he breathed out a “ _No_.”

He laughed breathily as Louis’ eyes narrowed, but before Louis could respond, Harry planted his feet more firmly on the ground, gripping the back of the chair for leverage as he threw his torso back, hips pistolling up before sinking down. Louis’ hands flew to his love handles as a guttural moan was ripped from him, the friction so good already. Fuck, but he _did_ miss this.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good, _so good_.” His thumbs dug into Harry’s laurel tattoos but he let him set the pace, Harry bouncing on him, the medal still around his neck catching the light as it moved with them. "My champion."

Harry was ethereal, something straight out of a novel. His pale skin glistened with sweat, reflecting the neon lights of the Las Vegas Strip as he moved, muscles flexing and head thrown back in wretched pleasure. Louis’ hand wrapped around his cock, wanking him in hopes of making him come before Louis himself did, a herculean task when faced with such an arousing view.

The chair creaked dangerously as Harry sped up, their panted breaths and moans the only sounds over the hum of the air conditioning and the slap of their flesh. Louis could feel the moment Harry went over the edge as he spasmed and gripped him viciously, black spots dancing in Louis’ vision at the feeling of it.

Harry slumped over him, panting, arms winding around Louis’ shoulders as they hugged. Louis was still so turned on he couldn't think clearly, and for a desperate moment he thought Harry was going to get back at him for not letting him come, but Harry thankfully started rotating his hips not soon after, grinding down on him in tight, maddening circles.

Louis pulled him by the hair until he could seal their mouths together, tongues winding as Louis gripped his hips to bring him down faster, their grinding speeding up.

“Come on, Lou, fill me up. Come for me, baby, come on.” And Louis did – _Fuck,_ Louis did.

***

As Louis waited for his turn to be called up the podium, he finally felt like he could breathe. It was _over_. Today he’d woken up sick, his body coiled with nervous tension even before he’d woken up. Harry had rubbed his back as he dry heaved into the toilet, and Louis though – as he always did before a competition – what if he pretended to be too sick to compete? Harry laughed, wiping a wet washcloth over the back of his neck, and Louis didn't even realise he’d said it out loud.

The rest of his day came to him only in flashes. Refusing to eat lunch for fear of being sick again. Dressing methodically and automatically. Taking Darcy for a last hack on the course of jumps. Pre-competition interviews. Harry practically forcing a sandwich down his throat by the time evening rolled through. Getting on his horse and waiting for his turn to jump.

And then.

Victory.

He looked up towards the ceiling, fighting the welling of tears in his eyes as he accepted his gold medal, the British national anthem playing in the background. He thought about all of his misgivings – all of the steps in his life that felt wrong at the time but somehow led him to that exact moment – to the most important moment of his career so far. He thought about his wonderful mum and his best friend back home, who’d always supported him in the seemingly impossible dream of riding professionally. He thought about his crew and work friends, whose hard work was just as important as his own for him to be there today. He thought about Darcy, his beautiful, powerful horse who loved to jump just as much as he did – and he thought about his other horse, too, looking down at him from horse heaven or wherever she was, that medal was a bit hers too.

At last, he thought about his boy, his _wonderful_ boy, who’d done nothing but support him and cheer him on ever since they met, who made the endless training seem bearable. He thought about how lonely he was when he’d won the World Equestrian Games, how miserable and isolated his training for that competition had been – and he couldn’t _fathom_ how he could possibly have ever thought that he was better off alone.

He searched for Harry in the crowd until he found him applauding besides Paul, a giant, proud grin on his face, and that familiar tight feeling in his heart threatened to swallow him whole. He was pretty sure he knew what that feeling was but he didn't completely trust his victory-pumped brain. He had to wait until he wasn’t on an endorphins high to give thought to this voice, even though it’d been shouting for a while. He had to be completely sure, absolutely no doubt in his mind, when he told Harry about how sometimes he felt like he was going to explode just by looking at him sleep, or smile, or tell an awful joke. Just by imagining their future together.

He smiled back at him and thought about a saying he'd once written on the inside of his first riding helmet.

_The best is yet to come._

***

“To these fucker’s legendary victories!” Niall screamed over the beat of techno music, drink in the air.

“To victories!” Louis, Harry and Liam shouted, glasses clinking in their booth inside the casino’s club.

They’d all got through the competition’s closing ceremony and following after-party, Harry and him smiling privately to one another across the room as they chatted with sponsors and patrons, reminiscing over their first conversation in the exact same setting, eight months ago.

After the party dwindled down, Niall had whisked them to a casino, but none of them was really much of a gambler, so they’d entered the casino’s club instead, a giant structure filled with dancing performers and an allegoric decoration, a bona fide Vegas party. Louis wasn't sloshed but he was getting there, fruity drink after fruity drink being thrust into his hands.

“Okay, lads, I have something to tell you.” Liam said, his words slurring slightly. Harry and Louis exchanged an amused look before turning to him and waiting silently for him to go on. “I'm in love with Zayn and we’re a couple.”

“You’re gay!” Niall exclaimed at the same time as Harry uttered a shocked “ _Love?_ ” and Louis spat “ _A couple?!_ ”

Liam looked between the three, a sheepish look on his face as he smiled around a “Yes? Though, Niall, I'm actually bisexual. I'm just in a committed relationship with a man at the moment.”

“That’s great, bro! Since when? Wow, I had no idea, congrats!” He scooted over to Liam and hugged him, Louis smiling at the sight. His eyes slid to Harry but he wasn't smiling, instead looking down at the floor with the same troubled look Louis’d seen the day before after he’d dropped Gemma off.

“Well, uh, we kissed the day after the Halloween party, as you know, but we started dating in December.” Liam smiled, a happy puppy dog. Louis nudged Harry with his foot, eyebrow rising in question, but Harry only shook his head slightly and plastered a smile on as he went to hug Liam, congratulating him as if it all was news to him. Though, the ‘love’ and ‘committed relationship’ parts actually were news, he supposed.

“What took you two wankers so long to tell us?” He demanded, because December was fucking _four months ago_.

“At first we were still figuring it out, you know? I had never been with a guy before and Zayn had some things to tell me that he, uh, had been feeling for a while.” Liam went pink at that, his lips twitching up involuntarily. He looked so smitten at the idea of Zayn having feelings for him. Louis was spot on on the sexuality part, but apparently he’d completely missed the whole ‘feelings’ part. _How in the hell Louis’d missed that_? “And then everybody was so wrapped up in training it never seemed like a good time. But mostly I think we wanted to keep it our secret a bit longer.”

“Is that why you've barely been around the house?” Niall asked, flagging down a waiter and motioning to their drinks.

“Well, yeah, with Louis and Harry fucking like bunnies back at the house, Zayn's flat became a pretty safe place.” Louis smiled, smug, as he looked over, but Harry had the distant, sad look on again, like he wasn't even listening to the conversation. That would not do.

“Lads, if you’ll excuse me and Harold for a mo.” He smiled, pulling at Harry’s hand until he had no choice but to follow Louis.

“Don’t talk about them fucking, Li, it sets them off, see? I bet they’re going to the toilet for a quickie.” Niall laughed as Louis flipped him off, his other hand pulling Harry away from the booth and weaving them through the mass of bodies.

He found them a secluded area in one of the empty smoker patios, surrounded by potted plants and away from the loud music.

“Okay, spill.” Harry’s eyebrows rose, unimpressed, and Louis’ temper flared. Since when Harry didn't talk to him? “What’s got your knickers in a twist since yesterday evening? Uh? I’d think with your gold medal and all, you’d be a bit happier.”

Harry scoffed. “Don’t tell me how to feel.”

Louis’ eyebrows rose in surprise, Harry’d never been dry with him. “Hey, what’s going on? Something happened? You can tell me, Haz.” Louis swore he could see Harry’s chin wobbling before the other man set his jaw and levelled him with an angry glare.

“I think I’d rather have a quickie, actually.” Harry laughed humourlessly, “Isn't that what we’re about?”

The words hit Louis like a slap in the face.

He stared at Harry, slack jawed, before his indignation bubbled over and he found his voice again. “What _the fuck_ are you talking about?”

“Oh, I thought we were – and I quote you directly here – _having a bit of fun_! But it’s best not to get in too deep, spares everyone involved of the heartbreak, isn't that right?” Louis stared in horror as his mind flashed back to what he’d told Harry all those months ago in the Italian place, before they’d even kissed. “So, tell me, Louis, are we close to your set expiration date yet? Just, you know, so I can be _spared of the heartbreak._ ” He spit out venomously, eyes brimming with tears.

“What the – _We’re a couple! There’s no fucking expiration date!”_ Louis smashed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to keep control of his voice. He could feel the alcohol cursing through his system, making him say more than he normally would. “I cannot believe this conversation is happening. Where have you been during the last _six months_? How can you question it? _Why_ are you questioning it?”

Louis suddenly felt so sad, _so, so sad_ , and all the fight drained out of him. “Is that what you want? An expiration date?”

“No!” Harry responded immediately, and he didn't look angry anymore, too.

“Then why are you doing this?” He could feel his throat closing in, but this time looking at the ceiling was not enough to keep the tears at bay.

“ _Lou._ ” And his voice was the weirdest mixture of sad and happy, so Louis looked at him again to find him with tears in his eyes too, but with a hopeful gaze. He extended his arms and Louis let himself be pulled into a hug, wanted it more than he wanted to fight it. “We’re a couple?” Harry whispered in his ear, hands fisting at the back of Louis’ shirt.

“Of course we’re a couple, you fucking idiot.” Louis laughed wetly – Fuck, he couldn’t believe he was crying.

“ _I'm sorry_. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so _so_ sorry. I panicked.” Harry pulled him in so tight Louis had actual trouble breathing. “Yesterday, right before she left, Gemma asked if you were my boyfriend. She started to, like, ask me all these sisterly-snoopy questions to try and gauge how serious we were.” His hand carded through Louis’ hair until it rested at his nape, not an inch between their bodies. “It’s never bothered me before, that we didn't really define our relationship. I used to think – It doesn’t really make a practical difference in our lives, you know? But then my sister asked if the man I’ve been sleeping with on more nights than not for the past six months was my boyfriend and I realised I didn't know.”

“Harry –”

“And then, like, Liam springs that on us – I don’t know about you but I was pretty fucking surprised at the ‘I'm in love with him’ part – and it sounded like they had it all figured out, while we’re together longer and we've never really had _the talk_ and I –“ He took a deep breath, his tone more hushed than his usual slow drawl. “I panicked. I'm sorry. I started to remember those things you said to me back in the beginning of training and I panicked. I thought I had it all wrong. Also I'm drunk. I'm sorry.”

“They don’t count anymore, ok? Forget I said all that, that’s rubbish.” He buried his nose in Harry’s collar, inhaling deeply for a moment before pulling back until he could make eye contact. “Here’s _the talk_ : I think we’re a couple. I think we've _been_ a couple for a while, we just haven’t put a label to it until now. I want to be with you, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course I’ll have you.” Harry’s smile was so big he looked a bit manic. “I'm fucking crazy about you, Louis.”

Louis smiled, cheeks pinkening, and pulled him into a kiss. “Ditto.” He murmured, his mouth to Harry’s, before kissing him again.

“That’s it, then? We’re boyfriends?”

Louis laughed at that, heart beating a crazed, happy rhythm. “I guess? I've never had a boyfriend.”

“ _Never?_ ” Harry asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“Well, not a –“ He smiled around the word, “ _serious_ one, I haven’t. By the time I was mature enough to, I was already neck-deep in training.”

“I can’t believe I'm your first boyfriend.” They laughed, limbs tangled in an embrace.

“I think, when we get back home, we should make it our mission to be as disgustingly couple-y as we can around Zayn and Liam. Steal their thunder.”

“Deal.” Harry laughed, fingers carding through Louis’ hair. “Now, let’s get drunk and be inappropriate on the dance floor. Then, when we get back to the hotel room, I want to fuck my _boyfriend_.”

***

Louis startled awake to the sound of hushed, urgent chatter filling the cabin over the sound of the plane engine. A cabin crew member pounded on the door of the toilet, chanting ‘ _Please sir, you need to step out'_. Outside the window he could see the plane was already on the ground, still taxiing into their terminal.

“ _Who the fuck_ decided to take a piss in the middle of landing?” He’d fallen asleep what felt like only an hour ago, his hangover still heavy at the back of his skull.

"Your boy Styles." Paul said from besides him, a strange look on his face.

"Harry's there? What happened?"

Paul wordlessly angled his phone to him, a video paused. Louis looked at Paul strangely but pressed play anyway. 

The screen showed a horse being ridden in rollkur, a highly controversial training method that Louis himself thought was repulsive. The video didn't show the rider's face, the frame only panning from their waist down, but Louis could see it was a man from the size and shape of his legs. As the horse trotted closer to the camera Louis could see that the bridle was ill adjusted and the bit was cutting off the circulation on the horse's mouth, its tongue purple from lack of blood and rolling off limp.

"This is so fucked up!" Louis could see that the animal was suffering even from the video, being led blindly with its neck bent at an unnatural angle. He was about to close off the video, unwilling to watch such abuse, when a detail on the horse's personalised saddle caught his eye. "Wait- That's Bean! Fuck, that's Harry's horse! Has he seen this? Is this why he's locked in the toilet? Fuck, he must be seething!"

“I mean, seething isn't exactly the word I'd use. More like shitting himself - figuratively, I mean. I’ll be surprised if he still has a job after this.”

“ _Wha-?_ Paul, that’s not Harry!” Dread pooled in his stomach as he looked around the cabin. The whole delegation seemed to be talking about it, the video paused on several phones. Did they think that was Harry, mistreating his own horse?

“How can you tell? You can’t see his torso and face.” But they could see his waist and legs, and that was enough for Louis to be sure it wasn't him, though he conceded others didn't have his extensive knowledge of Harry's body and way of carrying himself on top of a horse.

Louis levelled him with an unimpressed stare. “Just trust me on this,  _I can tell._ Besides, Harry’d never do that, that’s fucking animal abuse.” No one but the rider was authorized to ride the horse, so there'd be hell to pay when they discovered who did this.

“How did this person gained access to his horse?” Paul’s eyes widened. “That’s why they waited to release the video when the whole delegation would be on a ten hour flight, then. _Shit_ , that’s fucked up. Genius, but fucked up.”

Was Paul still a bit drunk? “ _What are you talking about_?” Louis didn't have time for this. He had to get to Harry, god knows what he was feeling after watching the video.

Paul’s face was an odd mixture between sheepish and pitying as he handed his phone to Louis again and minimized the video window to show the article it had originated from. "He better get himself a lawyer the minute he gets off this plane, and not talk to any reporters nor..."

The cabin crew lady was still knocking at the closed bathroom door, the plane still taxiing. Somewhere in the back of his mind Louis registered Paul still talking, but he couldn't comprehend the sounds, his mind filled with white noise, heart pounding in dread as he thought about the shit-storm that was coming Harry's way after an article like that.

It read “ ** _World Cup Scandal?_** _Great Britain’s Star Dressage Rider Harry Styles exposed as his cruel training methods were filmed during the competition warm-ups. Scroll down for exclusive video!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://leavingonatrain.tumblr.com/post/121878574230/leavingonatrain-fic-one-for-luck-by)


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : Spoilers for season three of Last Tango in Halifax, though if you follow the series there’s a 99% chance you know what I’m talking about.
> 
> A bit of british/equestrian background for the following chapters:  
> \- The FEI (Fédération Equestre Internationale) is the international governing body for all Olympic equestrian disciplines - like the FIFA of footie. Headquarters are in Switzerland. (Think of it as the horse police – though there’s no jail they can banish someone from competing altogether. The hierarchy goes: Rider -> British Equestrian Team -> FEI.)  
> \- Hickstead (All England Jumping Course at Hickstead is the full name) is the most traditional equestrian sports centre in GB. It’s on the south of England, near Brighton, and it hosts lots of international competitions during summer, including The British Jumping Derby, The Dressage Nations Cup final, and The Royal International Show. (Basically it is the place to be in July if you want to make it big in the ~british equestrian scene~ haha)  
> \- Also, [this](https://youtu.be/KIpYolB3K-M?t=45s/) is a water horsewalker. (Yes, I just wanted an excuse to show you horses doing aquarobics. Sue me.)
> 
> Enjoy!

It was after the doors had been opened and everyone had filled out of the cabin that Louis had to convince the flight attendant to let him try and pry Harry out of the toilet. 

"Harry, love, open up. It's just me." Harry's eyes were red from too many unshed tears as he finally unlocked the toilet door and let it slide open. He looked haunted and infinitely anguished, like he was barely refraining from bawling. The fist around Louis' heart squeezed tighter and he reached over to thread Harry's fingers with his own. "Everyone's gone, we have to leave the cabin too before they call airport security or something, alright? Don't you want to go check on Bean?"

"You -" Harry blinked as they stared at each other, and Louis watched as understanding dawned on him that he wouldn't need to defend himself. Not to Louis. "Yes, I'd like that. Do you think they’ll let me see him, Lou?"

"Of course they will, love, they can't keep you from seeing him. The only person who can do that is your grandmother, and she obviously won't do it." 

" _Fuck_ , my family- I hadn't even-" The desperate look was back, Harry's hand squeezing his in an iron grip as his erratic breathing picked up again. "What if they've seen the video already, Lou? What if they blame me?"

"Hey,  _hey_. Breathe, love, breathe with me. You're panicking." Louis stepped into the stall with him, the sharp sting of industrial cleaning chemicals in his nostrils as they squeezed together inside the crammed space. "You're not to blame for what happened, alright?  _No one_  could've seen it coming. I can't tell what their reactions will be since I don't know them, but if they blame you for it they'll be wrong, ok? It's not your fault." He let Harry burry his face in the crook of his neck, repeating, quieter, "It's not your fault."

***

The cargo bay of the airport was cavernous and damp, their steps echoing off the metal walls as they made their way to where the horses were being loaded into their trailers in preparation for their journey back to Buckinghamshire. Louis’ throat felt tight as he caught the way Harry’s hands shook when they arrived at Bean’s trailer, how the crew wordlessly let him through, making itself scarce as Harry climbed into the structure, cautiously approaching his horse.

Harry’s murmurs carried through the air as unintelligible, sorrowful pleas, Louis catching the sibilating drag of the word ‘ _sorry_ ’ being said over and over in between Harry’s hiccupped breaths. Louis didn’t dare turn around, as much to give them a modicum of privacy as to keep his own tears at bay. He was hit with a desperate longing for his own horse, his legs propelling him in the direction of Darcy’s trailer before his brain had made the conscious decision.

He hopped onto the trailer, picking his way through the hay until he could latch onto Darcy’s strong neck, burying his face in her coat and letting it absorb the tears that leaked from his eyes.  Louis had never had a dog, cat or any kind of domestic animal, his house already too crowded with younger siblings by the time he was old enough to look after a pet, but he couldn’t imagine it ever living up to what he felt for his horse, a love so fierce and all-encompassing it bubbled up and poured out his pores. Just the thought of Darcy enduring the abuse Bean had been subjected to was enough to awaken something vicious and fierce and single-minded inside him. He couldn’t even imagine how Harry was feeling.

***

The ride back into Buckinghamshire was tense, silence reigning inside his show jumping delegation coach, while Harry was in another one along with his dressage delegation. Louis stared out the window unseeing, as he replayed the last 48 hours in his head. The video had to have been filmed after Harry's final, there was no way someone could've sneaked Bean out of the competition stalls unnoticed before that, even with inside help – and Louis had no doubt in his mind that there'd been inside help, which was the only reason why he hadn't yet stood up and announced to the whole coach that _of fucking course_ Harry wasn't the one riding the horse.

Harry'd been to the stables the morning after his final, but otherwise spent the day with Louis. Then, after the closing ceremony and casino excursion; exhausted from the whirlwind of the day and the subsequent drunk, sloppy sex, they'd slept through their alarm, waking up with Niall pounding on their door and yelling that they had to leave for the airport and the both of them were the only ones still not checked out.

They'd rushed through stuffing their bags closed and doing only the bare minimum of personal hygiene, no time for breakfast or checking in on their horses one last time before the flight. That left a rough 28 hour window for someone to sneak Bean out of the stables, and then back in.

They'd barely left each other's sides during the entire competition, was the truth, and Louis himself had spent much less time with Darcy than he normally would. He felt briefly guilty of hogging Harry's attention like that, but, no – it wasn't his fault this'd happened, much less Harry's. There's no way they could've predicted this, no way could they have prevented it from happening short of sleeping with their horses inside their stalls. The people to blame were the grooms – whose specific job description was to watch over the horses at all times, after all – apart, of course, from whoever was pulling the strings to try and ruin Harry's career.

Louis just hoped they hadn't already succeeded.

***

Even though they were already more than halfway through April, Louis was just now starting to feel the fresh spring air, the British weather always slow on the uptake. He breathed in the crisp air, holding his breath as he watched a chubby bumblebee fly close to the ground by his feet. He looked up at the sky and exhaled slowly, feeling his tummy sinking in.

 _God_ , Louis had never known less what was going to happen. Harry and his trainer Caroline had been called into a meeting with the board as soon as the delegation coaches arrived at the training centre, proving Louis’ nan’s point that bad news did indeed travel the fastest. He wanted to wait for Harry, but with no prediction whatsoever of how long the meeting would last he ended up going back to his own flat.

He dumped his suitcase by the end of his bed, face-planting on the too-hard mattress and sniffing the stale sheets that didn’t smell like Harry. Coming to the flat alone felt overwhelmingly like an obligation now, and Louis was too tired to pretend he wouldn’t spend all of his time in the house with Harry if he had his way.

Though he supposed he was now entitled to that feeling, what with his newly acquired boyfriend status.

A giddy laugh threatened to bubble up his throat, Louis swaying his socked feet in the air and bunching up the sheets in his hands. Suddenly he was too wired up to stay still, pushing himself off the bed and crouching by his suitcase, upturning it on the floor. He put his and Darcy’s passports away, opening the velvet case that contained his World Equestrian Games gold medal and placing his newly acquired World Cup one beside it. He snapped a picture of the two and sent it to his mum, then started sorting his clothes into piles for the washing up even though he knew he’d only get around to doing it when he started to run out of clean clothing.

His mum’s response was a string of horse and trophy emojis, followed by a phone and a question mark. She hadn’t read the article yet it seemed, so Louis typed in _I’ll ring ya tomorrow xx_ and went to take a shower.

***

Harry’s suitcase was by the bottom of the stairs when Louis let himself into the house hours later, though the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Louis dumped his freshly packed overnight bag on top of it and carried both items up the stairs, hesitating briefly before opening Harry’s suitcase and repeating the process of separating clothing into washing piles.

He jogged down the stairs with the first load in his arms, opening kitchen cabinets until he found the one that concealed the washing machine. The only washing powder he could find was Tesco’s everyday value, so he put that in along with the everyday value fabric softener even though he was sure Harry probably had Fairy or some other fancy brand tucked in somewhere.

He’d just put the kettle on when he looked out the kitchen window and spotted Harry in the back garden. The meadowlands that stretched beyond the property were bathed in orange as the sun started to set, a truly breath-taking view, the kind of bucolic landscape that had no place anywhere but in the countryside. Harry seemed oblivious to it all though, head bent down, walking in circles as he talked on the phone.

Louis fished out some jaffa cakes and took them to the kitchen island with their tea, munching on it as he scrolled through his phone. As far as he could tell only the tabloid rags had picked up on the video, BBC Sports and Horse & Hound still showing only articles of Harry’s victory in the World Cup. He read through those, and through the comments section, then through Harry’s mentions on twitter. Harry never really used it, most of it promotional tweets put up by his manager or links to his instagram pictures. Louis opened the latest one, a picture of Bean inside his horse trailer on the day they flew to Las Vegas, captioned ‘ _On the road again_ ’. There was a stream of comments from the last few hours bellow it, ranging from concerned to downright abusive, and Louis’ stomach twisted at the thought of these notifications popping up on Harry’s phone all through the day. He knew first-hand how hard it was to ignore them.

He scrolled through Harry’s feed, smiling again at some of the pictures he’d already seen: a close up of Bean’s face, showing teeth like he was smiling. Far too many pictures of food. A photo of Louis’ mum’s back garden with the caption ‘you make me strong’ from when they'd stayed with her over the hols.

Between more food pics and artistic shots of Bean, he found a picture of himself, Harry and Niall from when they'd won the group costume contest last Halloween. There was a city shot that Louis recognised as being the view from Harry’s old London flat, a shot of his corporate mailbox at the training centre with the caption ‘first day’, a promotional picture of him on top of the podium at the World Equestrian Games; and, most interestingly – a black and white uncaptioned shot of two arms resting over the edge of a paddock, one hand holding a riding crop and the other holding a riding helmet.

See, it was very interesting indeed, because it was _Louis’_ riding helmet, being held by his own hand, hours before he'd even _met_ Harry.

He remembered the moment the photo'd been probably taken, leaning on the competition paddock watching as other competitors jumped, secretly praying for them to make mistakes. It wasn't unreasonable to assume Harry'd watched the showjumping final back then, his own final had already happened and he'd probably had some free time on his hands, and it _could_ have been completely coincidental that Harry'd chosen  _him_ as the model for his hipster shot, but somehow, Louis knew it wasn’t. He _knew_  it wasn’t.

He bit his lips around a smile, and wondered if now that they were official he was allowed to interrogate Harry over it.

He clicked the home button on his phone when he heard the kitchen door opening, deciding to question Harry on a less tense day. The tea he’d made him was probably lukewarm by now, but Harry grinned at him, a little strained around the edges, as he picked up the mug and took a sip, his other hand coming to rest between Louis’ shoulder blades. Louis twisted around on the stool until he was facing him, his eyes level with Harry’s on their position.

“How was it?” He offered him a jaffa cake, Harry only shaking his head and putting his mug down.

“Well, I’m suspended from training until further notice–”

“What?” Louis exclaimed, outrageousness swelling in him. “They can’t do that! What about your competitions? What about Hickstead? The Nations Cup?”

“And that’s not even the worst of it.” Harry laughed mirthlessly, eyeing his cup as he swirled the dregs of his tea. “The FEI is launching an investigation. I’m being investigated, _fuck_.”

“Oh, baby.” Louis whispered, drawing Harry in between his knees, arms and legs wrapping around him in a koala embrace. “I’m so sorry. You’re the last person that deserves this shit.”

“I may never compete again, Lou –” Harry voice caught as he buried his nose in Louis’ neck, arms wrapping around him and squeezing.

“ _No no no_ , don’t say that.” Louis whispered, one hand running through Harry’s back, the other buried in his curls. “Soon this will all be sorted and you’ll be competing, you’ll see. You’re not in the wrong here. We’ll sort it all out, I promise.”

“At the board meeting, they didn’t even care if I did it or not, Lou.” Harry pulled back, mouth curling in disgust. “They’re just worried about what’ll mean for the British Team. I spent ten minutes trying to convince them that it wasn’t me before I realised that they didn’t even give a fuck.”

“You made it clear it wasn’t you in that video, though, didn’t you?” Louis asked, Harry nodding his answer and lowering his hands to Louis’ thighs, squeezing lightly. “Good. You know they’re not here for the same reason you and me are, Haz. They’re in it for the money. They couldn’t give less of a fuck about what goes on behind the curtains as long as we put on a good show.”

“I know it, I just-” Harry sighed, hand coming up to rub at his temples. “It still caught me off-guard, how little they care about the horses, is all.” He opened one eye, squinting at Louis. “That was my manager on the phone, just now. I’m not supposed to say a word to the press, not even to defend myself, even though I’ve already lost two of my sponsors on the spot.” His mouth twisted in a contemplative frown. “At least she seemed to believe me when I said it wasn’t me, so I’ve got that going for me.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Anyone who spent at least an hour in your presence knows you’d never do that.” He ran his hands up Harry’s shirt, stroking the skin of his belly. “Don’t worry about the sponsorships. You’ll get them back once this is all cleared out, probably even better ones.”

“I like your optimism.” Harry laughed, hand pulling Louis in by the neck. They kissed, open mouthed and slow, Harry nipping first at his top lip, then at his bottom one. “Please tell me you’re staying.”

“Of course.” Louis murmured back, feet running up and down the back of Harry’s leg. “You’ve got me by your side for as long as you want it, curly.”

***

Louis discreetly sniffed at his armpit as he eyed the other two men in the room talking quietly between them. The sun had made an unexpected appearance today and he’d been pulled mid-jumping routine to give his statement to the FEI officials that arrived at the training centre earlier in the morning, not having the chance to even wash his hands before being led to the conference room being used as an informal interrogation room.

The official returned to his seat directly across from Louis, the registrar’s hands poised on top of his keyboard at the corner of the room.

“Thank you for giving us your statement, Mr. Tomlinson.” The man said stiffly. “Would you mind if I asked you a few more questions?”

“Go ahead.” Louis leaned back in his chair, stapling his fingers together in his lap. He’d already told, to a level of detail that he was actually uncomfortable with, every single waking memory he had of being with Harry during their time in Las Vegas. He couldn’t imagine what else the man had to ask that wouldn’t veer into explicit territory.

“It says on your discipline’s competition programme that your assigned roommate was fellow athlete Josh Devine, not Mr. Styles. Were you aware of this?” The sound of keys being pressed filled the room as the registrar started to type the conversation into his laptop.

“I was.” Louis curled his toes inside his riding boots, trying to keep from shifting in his chair. “Josh offered to switch rooms with Harry for the duration of the competition, and Harry accepted. I’m not aware if they informed the front desk of the change or not.”

“And why would Mr. Devine make such an offer?”

“Because he knows we’re partners and he probably thought it’d be a nice gesture.” Louis held the man’s gaze, praying for his blush not to be noticeable. “It was.”

“Romantic partners?” And the way the man said it – it wasn’t disgusted, _per se_ , or put off. It was more like _uncomfortable_ , and Louis had to actively keep himself from clenching his fists.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Are your respective programme directors and _chefs d’equipe_ aware of this relationship?”

“I have no idea.” Louis answered truthfully, noticing how the man’s eyes narrowed, just a touch. “We never made any sort of formal announcement, if that's what you're asking, but we haven't hid it either. There's no team policy that says we're obligated to inform anyone, as there's no conflict of interest since we don't compete in the same discipline.”

The official turned to the registrar, signalling for him to stop typing. “Mr. Vickers here will have your written statement ready for your signature in a few minutes. I ask that you remain in the room until then. I also advise you to read it over as it is not possible to retract it once it’s been submitted.” He got up, buttoning his suit jacket, and offering his hand for Louis to shake. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Tomlinson.”

***

“How did it go?” Niall asked him as Louis sidled up to him in front of the main stable, both eyeing the van with the FEI logo parked nearby.

“I have no idea.” Louis had just signed his statement after reading it carefully and had been told that if they needed anything else from him, he would be contacted. “I don’t think anyone is going to take my statement seriously if they know I’m in a relationship with Harry, to be honest. I think they’ll try to claim conflict of interest, or something.”

“Nah, I don’t think that’s the case.” Niall said, trying to subtly inch closer to the door and failing.

“Did you give your statement yet?” Louis asked, looking between Niall and the stable. “And what on earth are you trying to do?”

“Yeah, I gave mine right after Caroline’s.” Niall answered distractedly. He gave up on trying to look inside the stable, instead pointing inside and saying to Louis, “One of the FEI veterinaries is inside examining Bean right now.”

“Really?” That explained the medical FEI van, then. Louis had just started to think they were up for a surprise doping test. “What are they looking for?”

“Evidence of continued abuse. If what happened in the video was a frequent occurrence Bean would have spur marks on his flanks, scar tissue around his mouth, that kind of thing.” Louis grimaced, heart clenching painfully at the imagery. “They're not gonna find anything, of course. I examined him myself as soon as we got here on Monday.” He explained, adding after he noticed the murderous look on Louis’ face, “I know Harry didn't do it, bro, don't look at me like that. But I still had to do my job, I'm still Bean's vet.”

It was a fucked up situation for all of them.

***

Later, when he was finished with his training, Louis turned his phone back on to a text from Liam.

_I don’t think H’s left the bedroom all day :((_

Louis sighed, typing _on my way_ into his phone as he started to pull off his riding boots. Four days had passed since Harry got suspended, and he wasn’t taking it well. Louis could understand the shock of always having a crammed schedule and then, all of a sudden, nothing to do all day. It didn’t help matters that Louis’ own training was as strenuous as ever, and while having three or four hours free for each other during the evening had worked out when they were both so busy they barely had time to breathe, Louis wasn’t so sure it would now, when one of them was home all day.

***

Three weeks after the investigation had started, Louis woke up blearily, silence ringing in his ears instead of the insistent tune of his alarm. He rubbed at his eyes, disoriented, trying to spot what made him wake up at such an ungodly hour. He’d passed out not long after training yesterday, tired and sore, lying in bed for just a moment as he waited for Harry to join him.

It seemed Harry still hadn’t found his way to bed, if the cold sheets had anything to say about it.

Pulling on a pair of sweats, Louis made his way downstairs. The house was eerily silent, dark and empty as he went from room to room in search of Harry. He found him in the back garden, his back to Louis as he sat on the bench looking out into the fields that stretched far beyond the back of the property, morning fog sitting heavy in the valley. The sun was just starting to rise, the sky a swirl of pinks and oranges, a few stars still visible.

Harry jumped slightly as Louis wrapped his arms around his shoulders from behind, nosing at his hair before laying a kiss behind his ear.

“Morning, Haz.” Harry took one of Louis’ hands and brought it to his lips, nipping at his fingers before laying a kiss on it. “Couldn’t sleep, baby?”

“No.” Harry sighed, leaning his head back until it laid against Louis’ shoulder. “Too much on my mind.”

Louis wished there was more he could do to alleviate the ever-present tension on Harry’s shoulders, the worried lines between his brows. He felt powerless against the toll that the investigation was taking on him. He couldn’t help but notice, for example, how Harry had lost weight in the last three weeks – not an alarming amount but enough for Louis to notice when they were hugging or cuddling in bed. His libido had lessened too, Harry shrugging Louis off on the few occasions he'd tried to initiate something.

Sometimes he’d get home at the end of the training day to find out Harry’d not eaten anything all day; or Harry would be in the shower for over an hour and Louis would go in to find him standing still under the scalding spray, head bent down; other times he’d go running without his phone and disappear for hours.

Louis did what he could to help but at this point there wasn't much to be done other than wait for the verdict of the ground jury, still another three weeks away, and even though they were all pretty positive that no formal claim would be submitted due to lack of evidence, the stress was mounting. Each day that Harry was kept from training lessened his chances of competing in the Nations Cup, and in career like theirs, which relied so heavily on popularity and appearances, having an abuse history tarnishing one’s reputation could be the deal breaker.

Louis kissed the side of Harry’s neck, nosing at his hairline. It was during times like these that the urge to shield Harry from all of the evil in the world threatened to overwhelm him, swallow him whole.

“When was the last time you slept, baby? Took a shower? Ate something?” He tightened his hold when he felt Harry's heavy sigh, kissing the side of his neck. “Don’t get mad at me, please. If you won’t look after yourself I have to do it.”

“I look after myself. I’m not, like, depressed, or anything.” Harry rubbed at his eyes, legs stretching on the bench. “I’m just stressed.”

“Then let me help you relax. Come on, please.” He tugged on Harry’s hands until Harry relented and they started to walk back in the direction of the house, arms wrapped around each other. “Why don’t you take a quick shower and I’ll bring you something to eat?” He swatted at Harry’s side when the taller man gave him an incredulous look. “Fuck off, I can cook.”

“Alright. I didn’t say anything.” Harry mumbled, and Louis was pleased to see the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Go on, take a shower. I’ll be right up.” He closed the kitchen door, pushing Harry gently in the direction of the stairs.

He turned back to the kitchen, looking at the contents of the fridge with a critical eye once he heard Harry's footsteps on the stairs. Ideally he'd cook Harry a good full English breakfast, but both of them knew his fry-up skills were subpar at best. The unassuming package of rolled oats caught his eye as he perused the cupboard, his mind jumping to the countless occasions his mum had fed him porridge when he was poorly as a kid.

Louis snatched the rolled oats and the carton of milk from the fridge, dumping portions of both in a milk pan, adding a pinch of salt and a tablespoon of sugar, just like his mum used to do.

He stirred for a few minutes before pouring it in a bowl. It was all a bit grubby, if he was being honest, but it smelled really good, so Louis grabbed a spoon on his way up the stairs feeling quite accomplished overall.

***

Harry was sitting at the side of the bed, towel still wrapped around his middle as he scrolled through his phone with a frown on his face. Louis suppressed a sigh and hoped he wasn't googling himself again.

He butted his way into Harry’s lap, knees bracketing his hips as he straddled him, knocking his phone to the bed in the process. He ignored Harry's annoyed _Heey_ , and held a spoonful of porridge to his mouth like he would've done to his twin sisters when they were babies.

" _Eat_." He kept his expression stony as Harry eyed the grubby porridge, then him. His hands squeezed Louis' hips in protest, mouth turning down in a frown. "Don't even think about fighting me, Harold. I'll shove this down your throat."

"Force-feeding me porridge like a _bloody nan_." He grumbled, but opened his mouth obediently. His eyebrows shot up as he chewed, swallowing before saying, "That's good! That's actually tasty. What did you put in it?"

"Of course it is, Harold, I'm aces at porridge-making, my sisters love it." He held another huge spoonful to Harry's mouth, laughing a little to himself as Harry had to stretch his mouth open to fit it all. "Just the usual, and then a spoonful of sugar." Harry scowled then, cheeks puffed comically wide as he chewed. "Hey, don't make that face at my mum's recipe or I'll tell her. You should probably make an effort to stay in the good graces of your in-law, seeing as you've only got one."

"Not my in-law, we're not married," Harry pointed out, another spoonful of porridge poised in front of his mouth. " _Yet_." The spoon clanked against Harry's teeth as Louis shoved it in his mouth, a flush spreading through his skin faster than goosebumps. "You think I'm kidding?" He smirked around a mouthful of porridge, which should've been gross, but Louis was a bit too preoccupied to notice. "I'll marry the fuck out of you one day."

" _Shut up_." Louis hissed as his hips canted up involuntarily, Harry coughing a bit as he tried to laugh and swallow at the same time. "Eat your fucking porridge."

"I'll marry you so hard, Lou. Ruin you for everyone else, just like you ruined me." Harry grabbed at his hips when Louis tried to get up, red to the tip of his ears, and forced him back down onto his lap. Louis could pinpoint the exact moment Harry felt how hard Louis'd got at the words; a slow, satisfied smirk spreading through his face.

" _Shut up_. Shut the fuck up." Louis gritted as Harry took the bowl from his hands, depositing it on the bedside table and winding his arms back around Louis' waist, keeping their groins flush. Harry wasn't as hard as Louis but he was getting there, Louis feeling the shape of his cock fattening up as he wiggled around in Harry's lap.

"Can I get a kiss, then?" Harry sounded so fucking smug, _fuck_ , _why_ did Louis had to go and get hard at the mention of marriage, Harry was never going to let him live it down –

He kissed him, if only to shut him up, Harry's mouth warm and tasting of porridge. Louis drew Harry’s tongue into his mouth, heads barely moving as they kissed, all tongue, and the barely-there suction sent bolts of arousal to his gut. He started to move, just a little, just to relieve some pressure, hips moving in tiny pendulum motions as his hands wound through Harry's lush hair.

It was just – with Harry having been so worried lately they hadn't had sex in a while, which Louis understood, _he did_. But everything about Harry appealed to his baser needs in an achingly intense way – from his clean, strong earthy smell to the way his massive hands gripped the globes of Louis' ass possessively; his low grunts as Louis bore down on his naked cock, the towel having been dislodged by his wriggling. It was impossible to resist.

"Babe – do you have to jump today?" Harry whispered against his lips, tongue sneaking out and licking circles around the shape of them. His pointer finger pressed against his hole through the fabric of the sweatpants, and Louis swore he could cry, it’d been _weeks_ –

"Yeah, I do. _Bloody hell_." Louis bit down on Harry's bottom lip, soothing it with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth, hips moving back and forth in tiny increments. "Can you at least finger me a little?”

"You know you'll ask for more," Harry murmured, hands going up to small of his back and back down to his arse again, under the sweatpants this time. "You'll get my fingers and you'll whimper and you'll beg for my cock." He grabbed a handful of Louis' arse and ground it down on his hard cock. His big, delicious cock. _Fuck_ , Louis was so horny. "Then I'll give it to you. Love giving you what you need, can't say no to my baby."

" _Fuck_." Louis exhaled around a whimper, hands tightening on the base of Harry's skull. "Missed you so much.”

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.” He ignored Louis’ murmurs of _don’t apologise,_ finger running up and down Louis’ crack. "I’m gonna make up for it, though – gonna get my mouth on this bum. Would you like that, babe?" Louis only nodded, humping him in earnest now, sparkles gathering at the pit of his stomach. "Fucking love eating you out.”

Harry flipped them, manhandling Louis onto his stomach as he yanked his sweatpants down, leaving Louis naked on the bed.

He wasted no time in burying his head between Louis’ cheeks, tongue pointed and probing at his hole from the get go, Louis’ muscles tense as his leg jerked sideways. Harry held his knee up towards his chest, his other hand grabbing at the skin where Louis’ thigh met his arsecheek, tongue prodding at his entrance until the tip slipped inside.

Louis moaned into the inner curve of his elbow, hips moving involuntarily. He tried to spread his legs more so he could hump the mattress, relieve the pressure a little, but Harry’s hands kept his cock just out of reach, the tip barely rubbing against the sheets and sending sparks up Louis’ spine.

“ _Fuck_ , this arse.” Harry licked from his perineum to his entrance, sucking around his rim with noisy, enthusiastic slurps. It was obscene is what it was, how much Louis got off on that sound. He clenched his arsecheeks around Harry’s face, trying not to wake the others with his moans, and ground back into him shamelessly, Harry pushing back and letting him.

“Harry, _oh fuck, Haz_.” He dissolved into a stream of moaned “ _Haz, haz, haz”,_ his grip on the sheets turning white knuckled as he felt his orgasm looming.

Harry pulled on his hips until Louis was kneeling on the bed, face still pressed into the mattress as Harry wrapped both arms around his hips, trapping him against his face, which was completely unnecessary because Louis wouldn’t have moved away if his life depended on it, _fuck_ , he was gonna come. “Don’t stop, baby, _fuck_ , I’m gonna –”

He felt a string of come hit his chin through some dark recess of his brain, mind a blank void as he squirmed against Harry’s face, riding his orgasm for all it was worth. Harry moaned deeply against him, the vibrations making Louis shudder, until his body went limp and Harry let him slide back down onto the sheets.

He heard the sound of Harry’s hand flying on his cock over the rush of his own gasped breaths, Harry’s other hand spreading one of his cheeks to the side as he came all over Louis’ arse, grunting.

Louis felt Harry’s fingers running over his arse, spreading the come around. He stopped breathing when Harry’s finger poised at his entrance, the tip just barely touching his rim. A vision of Harry pushing his own come inside Louis’ body flashed behind his closed eyelids, his rim clenching reflexively as he bit his lip at the sudden flash of arousal the image provoked, whole body taut as Harry’s fingers circled his rim.

They hadn’t been using condoms all those months for nothing, was the thing, but still he had to restrain himself from pushing back into Harry’s fingers, which was – _well_. An urge he'd never thought he’d have.

After a beat, Harry moved away, leaning over Louis to grab the baby wipes they kept on the nightstand.

“It’s fine, I’ve got to shower for training anyway.” Louis said around a yawn, hearing as Harry followed him soon after, yawning too as he laid down beside Louis. “Fuck, I don’t wanna go.”

“Then don’t.” Harry mumbled around another yawn, pulling Louis into his side as he stretched his legs towards the end of the bed, and Louis was reminded that Harry still hadn’t slept.

He cuddled closer to him, throwing one leg over Harry’s as he buried his head in the juncture of Harry’s neck and shoulder, chasing the smell of him there.

He’d just cuddle his boyfriend for ten minutes, then he’d get up.

***

He ended up being over an hour late for practice, but Paul didn’t shit on his head (much) when he saw how drastically Louis’ mood had improved. They did manage to jump the course in sixty five seconds, more than once even, which helped in lifting his spirits even further.

His lunch time got delayed though, and all the other boys had already eaten, so he took his fish fingers sandwich, courtesy of chef Payno, to the yard, enjoying the May warmth that seeped through his white riding shirt. Soon he’d be able to wear polos and jodhpurs again, his favourite training clothing even though he got the most ridiculous tan lines where his gloves and the polo sleeves ended and exposed his forearms and part of his biceps to the sun.

He made his way to the horse physiotherapy facilities, intent on finding Liam or Niall, and flexed the arm holding his sandwich. Maybe he'd ought to start lifting before their trip to Greece. He had no ambition of getting Harry’s washboard abs in less than two months but he knew he could get good arm definition going when he could be arsed to put in the effort.

He made a mental note to ask Liam for help as he spotted Niall leading Bean to the various horsewalker machines. He jogged up to them just as Niall stopped in front of one of the aquatic horsewalkers, unclipping Bean’s reins.

“Hey, Nialler. I thought the water ones were only for the horses who are recovering from injuries?” He petted Bean’s coat, laughing when the horse tried to mouth at his half-eaten sandwich. “Can I bring Darcy here tomorrow? She loves the water.”

“Sure! They usually are, but with Harry not riding him, Bean needs the extra exercise to stay on top of his game.” He lead Bean to the platform entrance, Louis following. “Don’t you, boy?”

They watched as Bean walked down the ramp and into the water, tail swishing happily as he walked the circular treading pool. Louis circled the platform and crouched by the rails, stuffing the rest of his sandwich in his mouth so he could pet at Bean whenever he walked by.

“Oh, Ni – He’s nickering!” Louis turned, beckoning Niall closer. “Give me your phone, I’ve got to show Harry this.”

“Darcy’s not the only one who loves the water, mate.” Niall laughed handing Louis his phone.

Louis opened the camera app, waiting as Bean rotated around the horsewalker to start filming. He captured Bean treading the water enthusiastically, nickering softly as he passed by Louis and nuzzled into his extended hand. He laughed, delighted at how Harry’s horse was easy in his affections, much like his owner. He sent the video to Harry’s email, hoping seeing his horse well taken care of and happy would help pull him out of his funk once and for all.

***

The scent of fried bacon hung thick in the air of Louis’ flat by the time he let himself in at the end of the day. His eyebrows scrunched together at the hushed folk music playing from his TV, and he followed the sound of whistling to find Harry in his kitchen, apron tied around his waist, arranging spaghetti onto a platter.

“Why are you cooking in my kitchen?” He laughed when Harry jumped, coming up behind him and burying his face between his shoulder blades. Harry smelled like – home. He smelled like home. “And most importantly, did you bring your own apron to cook here?”

“Zayn and Liam are staying at the house tonight, so I thought I’d come here and cook you a meal. Pay you back for that delicious porridge from this morning.” He laughed as Louis pinched his side, squirming away from him. “It’s not like you two masterchefs have any aprons around.”

“Damn right we don’t, because we’re not in fact a couple of pensioners.” He laughed, twisting at Harry’s hips until the taller man turned around, leaning on the counter and pulling Louis in for a peck. “Hi. You didn’t have to cook for me in return.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” He nipped at Louis’ chin, grinning. “Besides, I need to hone my stay-at-home husband skills.”

He laughed at Louis' frown, snorting and laughing harder at the sound. Louis found himself laughing too at that. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed Harry’s goofy laugh until he heard it again.

“You won’t need to be a stay-at-home husband, curly, soon you’ll be competing again.”

“But what if I _want_ to be a stay-at-home husband? Five kids is a lot of res–”

“ _We’re not having five ki_ –” He caught himself just in time for another bout of Harry’s goofy laugh, rolling his eyes and prodding at his sides some more. “Very clever, you. Walked right into that one.”

“But seriously, though.” Harry said around a smile, body still shaking with residual laughter. “Four?”

“Three _at most_. Growing up in a crowded house is much less fun than it seems.”

“Three’s fine. I can work with three.” Harry conceded pensively. “Still got a lot of time to talk you into a fourth.”

“This conversation is over.” Louis rolled his eyes, leaning to the side to peek at the dishes behind Harry. “What are you cooking, anyway? Is that spaghetti carbonara?”

“Yep.” Harry’s hands ran up the back of his shirt, kneading into the muscles of his lower back. “Might not be as good as the one from the Italian restaurant, but I thought it was a good choice of food to thank you for being an amazing, supportive boyfriend.”

“First meal we had together.” Louis said around a smile, burying his face into Harry’s neck. “ _God_ , you’re so sappy.”

“Right.” Harry smirked, arms wrapping around Louis’ waist. “Because I was the one who just remembered, unprompted, that it was the first meal we had together.”

“Irrelevant.” Louis mumbled, pulling at Harry’s hair until he could seal their mouths together.

***

“ _Fuck_ , you are fantastic.” Louis mumbled, dazed, from his position sprawled on his back on the bed, Harry still squatting over him, hot and tight around his cock. “That was amazing.”

Harry’s smug grin never faltered as he dismounted Louis and got up from the bed, stretching his legs. Not even Louis, who prided himself in being an expert cock-rider, could bounce on someone in a squatting position from start to finish. He'd truly won the sex god lottery with Harry.

“Even better than the one before dinner?” Harry asked innocently, leaning over to roll the condom off Louis’ softening dick and taking it with him to the bathroom.

“I don’t know. Finding you already prepped was a nice surprise.” He said, Harry’s laugh floating in from the open door. “Which reminds me – we have to clean the kitchen counter before we go to bed or Zayn will pitch a fit.”

“Already did that while you were in the shower.” Harry said as he walked in, a wet flannel in hand.

His walk was just a bit crooked, a pang of primal satisfaction tugging at Louis’ gut.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Louis stretched lazily while Harry swiped at the droplets of his own come that had landed on Louis’ chest. “I think I’ll keep you.”

He smiled at Harry, beckoning him in, and Harry went easily, stretching half on top of Louis with his hand scratching at the hair on Louis’ chest while he laid his head on Louis’ shoulder.

“There’s, uh, something I want to talk to you about.” Harry mumbled into his chest, hand spreading on the curve of Louis’ waist.

Louis waited silently for Harry to elaborate, grunting out an unintelligible encouragement when Harry didn't.

“I was just thinking – and you can totally say no, by the way,” he hastily added, Louis’ curiosity spiking as he opened one eye to look down at Harry. “That since we’re official now, we could, well-“

“Just spill it, Harry.” Louis interrupted, sleepiness ebbing away at Harry’s nervous tone.

“I’ve made us appointments at the STI clinic so we can skip the condoms.” Harry hushed out.

“Oh.” Louis’ eyebrows shot up, mouth agape as he stared at the ceiling. “I mean, sure, yeah, I’ve never–“

“Got tested?”

“–had sex without a condom.” They said at the same time, Louis’ eyes drawing back to Harry. “Have you?”

“When I was a teenager, yeah, but I got tested plenty of times since then.” He looked up at Louis, adding, “Look, Lou, it was just an idea, we don’t have to –”

“No, I want to.” Louis interrupted Harry’s nervous babbling, hand coming up to twist in his hair. “We can get tested, that’s not it. It’s just – this will sound a bit ridiculous, but like, whenever I thought about it, I never really considered actually skipping the condoms a possibility?” His eyebrows scrunched together, mind on this morning’s sex. “I guess I’m still getting used to being in a committed relationship.”

“But you want it?” Harry prompted, moving to hover over Louis’ body, weight supported by his elbows. “We really don’t have to. I’m not bothered by the condoms.”

“But haven’t you wondered what it’d be like to feel me?” Louis looked up at him from his eyelashes, hands coming up to run slowly and teasingly over his sides. “Around you, gripping you – _inside you_. Don’t you want to know what it’d be like?”

“Of course I have, _fuck_.”  Louis smiled as his hands made a detour to Harry’s groin, brushing his hardening cock in the barest of touches. “You’re getting me hard again.”

“Think we can go for a third?” Louis asked, laughing when Harry let his weight drop from his elbows, landing on top of him and seeking his smiling mouth.

***

Louis eyed the boot of Harry's car, full with their move, contemplating if there was a way of rearranging the boxes to fit more stuff in. The first day of June marked the final stage of the training season, the team moving away from Buckinghamshire as the last vestiges of the cold melted under the heat of the competition season.

They'd already made the trip into London once, Louis having left his car in the flat, confident that Harry's monstrous car would have enough space for the rest of their stuff. 

"Need help closing the boot, babe?" Harry quipped from besides him, all decked out in his so called _'moving attire'_ , which consisted of the exact same skinny jeans and shirt he wore every day, but with a headband holding his hair back. Harry was quite frankly a ridiculous person. "Can't reach the door?"

"Fuck off." Louis scoffed, making a show of stretching up and pulling the boot door closed as Harry stuffed the last of his boxes into the back seat. "All packed?"

"Yep." Harry said, pushing the door closed. " _Guys_!" He called, waiting until the other three exited the house, each with a box in hand. "We're heading out. You sure we don't need to come back for more stuff?"

"Nah, bro, we've got it." Niall said, putting the box he'd been carrying on the ground. "See you two for pints at The Lady later tonight, yeah?"

"Wait!" Zayn called, running back into the house for a moment and coming back with one of his paintings. "Can you take this back to the flat with you? I'm gonna head straight to Liam's, I think."

"Yeah, sure." Harry said, accepting the frame. "Are you sure you don't mind me kipping with you and Lou for a while? I don't want to kick you out of your own flat."

"Nah, bro, don't sweat it. Liam's new flat is sick, I was gonna spend most of my time there anyway." Zayn grinned, knocking his head gently with Liam's when the other man came to stand behind him and rested his head on Zayn's shoulder. "Besides, if we're at the flat we won't be able to have sex without Louis whining about it."

"Damn right you won't," Louis said, tone indignant, "scarred me for life with your weird dirty talk."

"It's not _weird_ , Louis, piss off." Liam said with a frown, Zayn's mouth tugging up at the corners besides him.

"I wasn't talking to you, _daddy_." Louis deadpanned, Niall bursting out laughing while Liam blushed a deep red. "Yeah, the thin wall goes both ways, pals."

"Okay, kink-shamer, let's hit the road." Harry laughed, circling the car to the driver's side. "See you later, lads!"

***

Louis held his tongue for a whole ten minutes into their journey before grumbling, "I wasn't _kink-shaming_ them. It's called banter, Harold."

Harry hummed noncommittally, eyes never leaving the road.

"I'm an open-minded person, as I'm sure you're aware." Louis continued, fiddling with the radio. "I'm very supportive of people exploring their sexuality."

"I _am_ aware." Harry smiled, eyes darting momentarily to Louis. "I know it was a joke, I was just teasing you. Why are you so worked up anyway?" His voice dropped to a _faux_ sexy whisper, left hand landing on Louis' thigh. " _You secretly want to call me daddy_?"

" _Ex-fucking-cuse me_?" Louis twisted in his seat to look at Harry, eyebrows shooting up. "If anyone's the daddy in this relationship, it's _me_."

"You?" Harry laughed, "Louis ' _I like to be pinned down and spanked_ ' Tomlinson would be the daddy? _Nah_."

" _That's not the only criteria_." Louis retorted, pitch rising in indignation. "You're a sugar-baby personified, Harold, just 'cos you're bigger–"

"Glad we're finally admitting it." Harry muttered under his breath.

" _–In height_ ," Louis hissed while Harry grinned and squeezed his crotch. Smug bastard. "Doesn't mean you have the authority."

"Alright, then." Harry conceded, smug smirk never faltering. "Tonight, when we get back from The Lady, I won't let you come until you admit I'd be the daddy. Just letting you know."

Did Harry honestly think he wouldn't rise to a challenge like that? _It's like he didn't even know him._

"You're _on_ , Styles."

***

Louis moaned wretchedly, head hanging over the side of the bed and making him see everything upside down as Harry held his hips mid-air, gripping them into place as he drove into him  _again and again and again_. Louis' legs flopped uselessly to the sides, his strength having been drained off after the first full hour, his wrists bound behind his elevated back. They were coated in sweat, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling in the room.

Through some dark recess of his mind Louis noted that if Harry let him slip he'd most probably go skidding straight into the carpet, slippery and boneless and bent almost perpendicular, blood rushing to his head.

"Jesus, are you– _uh–_ did you take viagra or something?" Louis panted, head twisting to the side. His bedside clock told him they'd been at it for almost two hours, and Harry wasn't showing any signs of coming any time soon.

"Nope." Harry hissed, arms bulging as he hoisted Louis higher. "Who's your daddy?"

"Not you, _wanker_." Louis panted, all bite drained from his tone in favour of a low wail.

Harry pulled out then, scooting back so that Louis wasn't half-hanging off the bed anymore, and flipped him, Louis landing face first into the bed without his arms to lean on, biting the duvet as Harry pushed inside him again, drilling into his spot in a practiced motion. Louis' mind went fuzzy, a stream of high pitched _"uh, uh, uh"_ punched from his throat as he climbed toward his orgasm for what felt like the millionth time tonight.

He still whined when Harry pulled out just as he was about to come, leaning over him until he could whisper in his ear, "Who's your daddy?"

Louis wasn't, despite all their banter, actually into it, but he desperately needed to come, so he turned his head to the side, whispering, "You win, baby, you win. _Please_ let me come. You want to hear it? I'll say it."

"You want to say it?" Harry asked, leaning to the side until he could make eye contact, both with their faces half-smashed into the mattress. Their eyes met, staring for a second until the absurdity of the situation seemed to hit them, both erupting in silent giggles. "Alright." Harry conceded, leaning back to untie Louis' wrists. Louis rolled onto his back, arms and legs spreading to accommodate Harry, winding around him as he slipped back inside, unhurried this time.

Louis' eyes never left Harry's as he moved, both so wound up that it wasn't a full minute until Harry was trembling above him, biting hard on his lip.

"Come for me, baby." Louis whispered, one hand sneaking down to his own cock, pulling at it desperately as he felt Harry's thrusts falter, muscles locking in pleasure.

Harry didn't stop moving after he came, grinding into him as Louis sped towards his own orgasm, face screwing when he spurted between their bodies, _finally_ , Harry's name on his tongue.

Harry pulled out, then, not bothering to take off the condom as he slumped on top of Louis, face nuzzling into his sweaty neck.

"For the record," Louis murmured, hands coming up to push Harry’s damp hair off his forehead. "I think you'd make a great daddy, if we were into it. That was kinda hot."

"Hm, you would make a great daddy too." Harry mumbled, mouth sliding down to lay a peck on Louis' nipple. "You always take such good care of me."

"We take care of each other." Louis grinned, sated. His eyes were getting heavier and heavier. 

"That we do." Louis heard Harry say, his last conscious memory before sleep pulled him under.

***

Louis climbed the steps to his London flat with a bounce in his step, whistling a tune he'd heard on the radio on the way home. Getting home when the sun was still up in the sky was a surprisingly powerful mood lifter.

He opened the front door, calling for Harry while he dropped his keys on the end table. 

He found him in the living room, curled up on the sofa and –

 _Crying_.

Louis' heart squeezed painfully, running through his mental calendar frantically. There were still a handful of days until the six week deadline for the investigation's verdict, but maybe they'd given Harry a heads up on the result, or maybe –

"Oh hey, Lou." Harry startled, voice nasal. "Didn't see you there."

Louis approached the couch cautiously, sitting down next to Harry gingerly. "Harry, love, why are you crying?"

"Kate died." Harry mumbled, sniffling.

 _Huh?_ "Who?"

"In Last Tango," Harry pointed to the telly, the screen paused on a scene of Sarah Lancashire cradling a newborn. "They were just married and they were _happy_ but she got hit by a car and now Caroline's gonna have to raise little Flora _all alone_." Harry said, eyes brimming with fresh tears, and Louis – well, he burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry!" He said between bouts of laughter, biting his lips at Harry's confused and vaguely offended face. "I'm sorry, babe, it's just– I thought–" He shook his head, heart swelling for his boy. Crying over a BBC romantic drama, _oh Harry_. "Oh, Haz, I lo– " He clamped his mouth shut just in time, burying his face in the crook of Harry's neck. Trying to keep his romantic declarations to himself for the sake of Harry's sanity during the investigation was getting harder and harder.

 _God_ , he couldn't wait for Harry to be free of these accusations so they could carry on with their life. So their future together could truly start. _The rest of their lives._ "Tell me what has happened so far. I'll watch the rest of it with you."

"What, _all of it_? I'm in the middle of season three already!" But he sounded so excited at having Louis marathon a telly show with him, it was more endearing than it had any right to be.

"So? Didn't you just start watching the series yesterday? Should be all fresh in your memory, innit?"

"I suppose." Harry's brows furrowed, Louis leaning over to the coffee table to pick up the DVD cover.

"Ok, tell me who this is." He pointed to the elderly couple on the front. "Are those the main characters?"

"Yeah, this is Celia and this is Alan," Harry said, pulling Louis into his side so they could get comfortable, "they were childhood sweethearts...."

***

The lunch crowd at The Ritz spilled into the hotel's garden by the time Louis entered the restaurant, the early June sun still mild enough to allow for outdoor seating without discomfort. The hostess led him to a table by the window, Simon already seated and sipping on scotch.

"Who are we meeting again?" Louis said by way of greeting, sitting down and ordering a Piña Colada from the waitress in celebration of the summery weather.

"Longines directors, but they're not due ‘til one." Simon said, smirking when Louis went to check the hour. "You better put that Rolex away, though. Bit reckless coming to a sponsorship meeting with the competition's product on your wrist, don't you think?"

"Shit, I forgot." Louis muttered, sliding his watch off and slipping it into his blazer pocket.

"Nice watch, by the way. Not like you to splurge like this on yourself." Simon teased.

"I didn't – Harry gave it to me. For my birthday."

"Styles gave you an eighteen thousand quid watch?" Simon said, surprised. He laughed to himself before saying, "Well, Louis, you've certainly got yourself a keeper."

"That's not – wait, _eighteen_?" _Shit_. Louis had taken the tube with an 18k quid watch on his wrist.

"Hmm. I know my watches almost as well as I know my horses." Simon brought his drink to his lips, eyes flitting over the room. "How is he, anyway? Any day now until the verdict comes out, innit?"

"Yeah, he's fine. As well as can be, given the circumstances." Louis accepted his drink from the waitress, waiting until she was out of earshot before adding. "He's actually up north at his family's yard right now, been there since yesterday. He was driving himself crazy with nothing to do but watch telly here." 

"Hm, that's good. He's got to keep his head on his shoulders, otherwise he'll be handing his horse in a platter to Magge in no time." Simon observed. "He's got a buyer, yet?"

"You think he should sell?" Louis asked, fiddling with his cloth napkin.

"I think he can't  _not_ sell, not when he's still under Magge's radar. This investigation is just the first attack. You know as well as I do that Styles is not gonna go to Tribunal over a video where he's not even pictured in and with no witnesses against him."

"Theoretically I do, yeah, but if Magge's got someone inside the delegation crew, who's to say he hasn't got someone inside Tribunal?"

"Speaking of, were all his grooms fired?" Louis nodded. "Good. I wouldn't put it past him to have someone inside the FEI either, but this is not about a court case – he wants the horse competing just as much as anyone. He has to get rid of only the rider, so what does he do?"

"He keeps coming for Harry with scandals until his image is ruined and Harry has no choice but to sell to him." Louis muttered, Simon nodding in agreement. "It's already working, though, isn't it? Harry's not exactly the equestrian circuit's sweetheart right now; he's got no leverage for a good half-ownership deal with this investigation hanging over his head."

"True. Except you, my darling, are living proof that it's all about the way you spin it to the media. Everybody loves – and excuse my metaphor here – a _dark horse_. Your fall could've been your ruin, but instead you came out as the underdog who overcame his tragic past to conquer the podium." He spread his hands on an invisible banner, " _Harry Styles, who earlier in the season was unjustly accused of abusing his own beloved horse, returns even stronger to Grand Prix_ – Do you see what I’m getting at? _Victim turned victor_. That's the way to go – the crowd eats that shit up. Then he sells half of that damn horse as fast as possible."

Louis was quiet after that, mind working furiously as a plan already started to form in his head.  _He could do this_  – If he played his cards right, Harry could actually come out on top.

"Louis, darling, our lunch dates are here." Simon snapped his fingers in front of his face and pointed to the front of the restaurant. "Leave the saving of your damsel in distress for after you've taken care of your own career." Louis frowned at him, turning to see the Longines executives checking in with the hostess. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for an afternoon of business pleasantries, and slowly plastered on his commercial smile. 

***

Louis spent the ride from The Ritz up to Primrose Hill with the cab windows down, chatting idly with the driver about the unusually nice weather. The wind didn't mess up his quiff too horribly, instead giving it a downward swirly swoop that Louis actually enjoyed. He pushed his blazer sleeves up to his elbows and opened one more button of his shirt, sliding his watch back on as the cab turned into a quiet street of terraced townhouses, stopping in front of a basement flat Louis hadn't been to in over a year.

He rung the doorbell and waited, listening to the once familiar sound of overexcited paws skidding over the hardwood floor, followed by a set of human footsteps. He set his jaw as the doorknob turned, and then Nick Grimshaw was standing in front of him.

"Well, well." He smirked, his dog Pig wagging her tail at Louis happily. "Look what the cat dragged in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was beta-ed by the lovely [Kelci](http://itskelci.tumblr.com/%22) <3 and it officially makes One For Luck the longest fic I've written to date. Damn. I hope it's as fun for you as it's been for me so far <3
> 
> Also I may or may not have cried when Kate died in Last Tango. No one will ever know either way.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I’m on [tumblr](http://leavingonatrain.tumblr.com/) and [this](http://leavingonatrain.tumblr.com/post/125540469070/fic-one-for-luck-by-leavingonatrain-larryziam) is the fic's post!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter the smut is amped up a bit - there's sex toys, overstimulation and bondage; If any of it is not your cup of tea, you can skip the scene as it bears no major weight on the plot.  
> Happy reading!

The motorway stretched in front of Louis, the gentle vibration of the asphalt beneath the car tires as soothing as the slow music playing on the radio. To his left, the sun had just sunk behind the pastures, bathing the patchwork of green fields in the soft glow of the twilight.

He'd hoped to take advantage of the late sunset to make the journey up north still in daylight, but training had dragged on as Paul squeezed out every bit of good will Louis and Darcy had in them. His GPS spoke up, telling him to get off the M6 at the next junction, so he followed the roundabout until he was on the A54, heading east now.

Soon he was breezing past the welcome sign for Holmes Chapel, trying to spot places that belonged in the childhood stories Harry had told him. Images of little Harry growing up in the village sprung into his mind, making him smile into his closed fist.

He continued down the main street until the buildings started to get scarce again. It was completely dark out by the time he turned on the little winding road that was supposed to be the end of his journey, the gravel scrunching beneath his tires the only sound he could hear in the quiet stillness of the evening.

He stopped at a  _cul-de-sac_ , the car headlights illuminating a big sign announcing  _Irwell Hall Equestrian_ , _est. 1969_  as he slowed to a stop. Directly in front of him stood a two story Georgian farmhouse, ivy climbing up the side of the exposed brick walls. To its left, a small detached annexe had its lights on, while further away on the right he could see the outline of the stables and what he assumed were the other outbuildings of the property. 

Louis twisted to retrieve his overnight bag from the backseat, pulling his keys from the ignition as he opened the car door and climbed out. The sound of small paws skidding across the gravel reached his ears, and he looked down just in time to see two overexcited mounds of fur collide with his legs. The squeak he let out wasn't exactly masculine, but that was between him and the corgis. 

"Hello, tiny ones," He bent down to scratch behind the ears of the smaller dog while the other was sniffing his bag. "You didn't happen to see a tall, handsome long-haired man around, did you?"

As if on cue, a familiar silhouette made its way out of the annexe, and the deep seated contentedness that Louis had come to associate with Harry's presence started to settle in.

"I see you've met Poppy and Tilly!" Harry announced as he made his way over, a smile in his voice. "Hi, babe." He nudged the dog to the side, wrapping his arms around Louis' shoulders and pulling him in for a hug.

He was wearing wellies and a hoodie, a far cry from his usual style, which made it all the more endearing. Louis melted against him, the tension that had accumulated over their week apart slowly seeping out of him. 

"Hiya, love." He whispered, going on his tip toes for a closed-mouthed kiss, squeezing him tight around the waist. They separated with an exaggerated  _muah_ , smiling as they stared at each other in the dimly lit space. "I missed you."

"Missed you more," Harry said around a smile, going in for another peck before taking Louis' bag from him with one hand and lacing their fingers with the other. "Come along now, the sooner we get the introductions over with, the sooner I can get you alone."

Louis laughed as he was pulled in the direction of the annexe, Poppy and Tilly going around them to lead the way.

It was cool inside, Louis noted, and pointedly more modern than the outside. The small flat was all done up in white furniture and sleek metal surfaces, but it smelled so overwhelmingly of lavender and biscuits that Louis was momentarily transported to his own nan's house.

"Granny and granddad, this is Louis." Harry announced as they entered the sitting room, an elderly couple Louis recognised from pictures sitting on the settee as Casualty played on the telly. Their faces lit up when they saw Harry and Louis enter the room, both starting to slowly and creakily get up. "Lou, these are my grandparents, Edith and Arthur."

Louis smiled politely and wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans before extending it. "Good evening sir, madam, so nice to meet you both."

"Nice to meet you too, young man." Arthur said warmly, shaking his hand. 

Harry's nan bypassed his extended hand altogether, pulling him in for a hug. "Oh Louis, I'm so glad you came! We heard so much about you! It's about time we met!" Louis couldn't help but smile and rest his cheek on her head of curly fluffy white hair for a second. He loved nans. "I'm gonna put the kettle on, you must be exhausted from the ride up! Have you eaten anything, love?"

"Yes, I ate on the way here, don't worry, madam," he said, his hand finding Harry's automatically.

"Oh, those awful motorway snacks!" She exclaimed, scandalised. "No, no! It just won't do! I have some beef stew in the kitchen, let me heat it up for you," She started for the kitchen, Arthur shaking his head fondly as he followed her. "You can't go to bed without a proper meal, not in my house!" She called from the kitchen.

Louis looked up at Harry for help, but the taller man just shrugged and started to pull him into the kitchen. "She does cook a mean beef stew."

***

Louis' belly felt like it was ready to burst as he followed Harry across the yard and to the main house sometime later.

"I feel like a turkey being fattened for slaughter in time for Christmas." He moaned, popping the button of his jeans open now that they weren't in sight of Harry's grandparents. "I don't think I've ever been this full."

"She's gonna shovel food in until it's popping out of your ears, sorry I didn't warn you first." Harry laughed, fiddling with the house keys as they stood in front of the door. "You get why I was a chubby teenager now?"

"You weren't chubby," Louis said, hand automatically coming to squeeze his tiny love handles as he rested his head between Harry's shoulder blades. One week with his grandparents was enough to put back on all the weight Harry’d lost since he’d been suspended from training, and then some. Louis could understand; his nan’s food was out of this world. "It was residual baby fat. You were so cute with the cheeks and the fluffy hair, I wish I'd known you, then."

Harry made a weird sound at that, and Louis leaned over his side to see him with his lips pursed. "What?"

"Nothing." Harry murmured, finally getting the door open and ushering them inside. He turned the lights on, and before Louis could press the issue further, added, "The house is grade II listed, but before that, the ground floor was turned into a reception for the riding students and the horse owners." He gestured for the large open space, starting for the stairs at the back. "The sunroom has an amazing view, I'll show it to you in the morning." 

Louis followed him up the stairs, eyes squinted suspiciously, bag slung over his shoulder. The upper floor of the house was much more period typical, all mahogany panelling and low ceilings, tastefully decorated. Harry led them to what Louis assumed was the master bedroom, a giant four poster bed and what looked to be a functioning fireplace the highlights of the room.

" _Wow_." It was like he was inside an episode of _Downton Abbey_ , or summat.

“Cool, isn’t it?” Harry smiled, taking Louis’ bag from him and depositing it on top of the vintage vanity. “This used to be my grandparents’ room, but after everyone grew up and moved out, they decided to relocate to the annexe. Less stairs.”

“Do you think this house is haunted?” Louis asked, toeing off his vans as he shimmied out of his jeans. The trick was to get Harry to think he’d effectively derailed the conversation, only to surprise him with it when he least expected. Louis was a master of strategy. “Have you ever seen anything?”

“Not really, but I almost never spent the night here.” Harry pushed his own jeans down, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots. “Only when Gems and I were too little to stay home alone and my mum wanted to go out.”

“I bet there are a million ghosts in this house.” He made his way over to Harry, climbing over him and settling in his lap. “It’s too old not to.”

“Not voyeuristic ghosts, I hope.” Harry waggled his eyebrows playfully, hands coming to rest on the globes of Louis’ arse over his pants.

“Oh, so you’re okay with the horses watching, but ghosts are a _no-no_?” Louis teased, not giving Harry time to respond before kissing him, hot and open mouthed. It was toe-curlingly familiar, the way their tongues twisted in perfect synchrony, their heads turning to opposite sides just so. It was perfect and _home_ and Louis would never tire of this feeling.

He brought his hands to Harry’s hair, twisting the curls through his fingers, and tipped forward until they were laying down on the bed, the kiss breaking briefly for Harry to scoot further up, Louis crawling over him. He kissed him again, Harry’s arms wrapping around his neck while Louis’ hands held onto his biceps, fingers digging in the thick muscle. For how long they’d been together Louis thought that the desperation, the _need_ that curled low in his belly would’ve abated by now, or at least lessened somehow. Instead it burned hotter, threatened to swallow him whole.

He pushed on Harry’s arms until they extended above his head on the mattress, Louis’ hands running up them in a slow caress before he suddenly clamped around his wrists, pinning them to the bed.

"Tell me why you reacted that way to my comment, earlier." He whispered in Harry’s ear, smiling at Harry’s frustrated huff. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

"You remember that?” Harry’s head whipped to the side so he could look at Louis in the low light.

"No," Louis sighed, sitting back on Harry’s hips while he let go of his wrists. “But the photo on your instagram, it’s from before the party, innit? I figured it was more than just you being a creeper.”

“’M not a creeper.” Harry sulked, going limp on the bed. He brought his hands to cover his face, but his blush spread from beneath his palms and down his neck, giving his embarrassment away.

Louis found it curiously odd considering where they were now, committed as could be and virtually moved in together. “Hey, I’m just teasing, love.” He pried Harry’s hands away, finding him red as a tomato, eyes screwed shut. “Please, tell me.”

He wiggled until Harry's mostly hard dick was nestled right between his cheeks, just in case he needed a reminder of what he was delaying.

"Remember when they lowered the minimum age for entering the British team from 21 to 18?" Harry started slowly, stare fixed on a point to the left of Louis' head.

Louis obviously did – almost half of the team had retired after the 2008 Olympics, urging the delegations to recruit younger riders to fill the spots. It was the change in law that allowed him to get sponsors and try out for the team when he would’ve had to wait another two years otherwise.

He nodded, urging Harry on.

"I was about to turn seventeen and training abroad, so I couldn’t try out. Back then I wasn’t all that good anyway, if I’m being honest, so I’m not sure I would’ve got in even if I could.” He shrugged, thumb tracing patterns on Louis’ thigh. “A few months after selection there were a few open days on the training grounds though, and they coincided with a weekend I was home from Switzerland.”

“ _Oh._ ” Louis remembered that time, being nineteen and newly recruited and given no credit; wanting so bad to prove his worth that he’d trained like a madman from day one, even though his first big Grand Prix wouldn’t actually happen for another two years. He moved his head to the side to try and get in Harry’s line of sight. “Are you serious?”

“ _Shush_. Let me tell the whole story first.” He admonished, eyes darting to Louis’. "When our visiting group was introduced to the riders, you caught my eye right away. We shook hands and everything, you and I. It's okay that you don't remember it, there were so many people that day." Harry rushed to add. Louis had never hated his inability to retain people's faces as much as he hated it now. "But yeah, we’ve met. You’ve seen me in all my teenaged glory. I kind of kept track of you over the years, then." He was blushing again as he said it, ears almost crimson. Louis was speechless. "I remember planning the ways I was going to skip training to see the 2012 Olympics on the telly. You were so tiny and fast on top of that horse, jumping so flawlessly, I knew you'd win."

"But I fell." Louis completed before he could help it, surprising even himself. He never ever brought up the fall in conversation with anyone. Harry’s hands tightened on his thighs.

"Yeah. It was big news at the time, such a nasty rotational fall weeks before the Olympics, and you were so lucky to have got out of it with minimal injury." It was true. In his grief over Cella, Louis often forgot his fate could've easily been the same as hers. "And then you disappeared from the circuit. Just _vanished_. I moved back to the UK to start competing in Grand Prix when I turned 21, and when I asked about you, some people said you were at home depressed, some said you were training abroad in secret, but it was all just rumour until we saw your name on the programme for the WEG two years later."

"Well, I  _was_  a bit depressed and I was training in secret, yes, but it was in the West Midlands instead of abroad. Simon had got a new horse with the insurance money, and he wanted to add the element of surprise to our next competition as a marketing strategy to get my sponsors back. _Resurrection_ , and all that. But it doesn't matter now, it's in the past. Tell me more about your hopeless crush on me instead." He teased, trying to lighten the mood. 

"I wasn't  _pining_  or anything like that, cocky. I barely knew you. It was more like _admiration coupled with low-level horniness_ , and it actually motivated me to train harder, because I wanted to be good enough that you'd notice me.” 

 _It worked_ , Louis couldn’t help but think, remembering how his eye caught on the golden medal almost identical to his own, only to look up at the owner and be instantly captivated by the lucky dimples. He was like a fucking magpie when it came to golden medals, Louis was.

“When everyone started arriving for the WEG I was so on edge from seeing your name as a competitor; I hadn't heard from you in almost two years! Hadn’t seen you in six! All week I tried to pluck up the courage to just go and reintroduce myself, but you always had this super intimidating look on.”

"Well, I was focused on winning.” He paused, considering. “I still am, but I guess back then I felt like I had something to prove, you know? Because last time I had competed, I’d fallen. And then after I won, I was finally able to relax. But you should've talked to me, Harry. No way I'd resist the dimples, focused or not." Louis grinned, leaning over him and dropping a peck to his lips.

"At the afterparty I asked Liam about you, because Liam knows everyone, yeah? And he refused to spill the beans, which is understandable since he's your friend and everything. But then all of a sudden there you were, introducing yourself! I thought you might be flirting, I wanted to invite you back to my hotel room _so bad_ but you kept being pulled away to talk to people and I remember saying ‘ _Everyone wants a piece of Louis, huh’_ and Liam said ‘ _Yeah, he's a charmer’_ , so I thought you were just, like, naturally flirty." 

"Really?” He laughed, breathless with Harry's confession. “Jesus, I can't believe I've been cock-blocked by _bloody Liam_. And us meeting all those years ago! Why haven’t you said anything? After we started dating, like.”

“Oh, yeah. 'Louis, teenager me used to wank himself dry over a thirty second interaction with you' _._ That’s not lame at all.” Harry laughed, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve wanked to anyone that wasn’t you ever since we met.” Louis answered truthfully, shrugging his shoulders. “I’d say we’re on pretty even ground.”

“But have you been wanked _by_ anyone that wasn’t me ever since we met, is the question.” Harry tried for nonchalant, but Louis’d learned to read the tense line of his shoulder long ago.

“You know I haven’t. I was dickmatised before I even saw your dick.” He leaned over to pinch Harry’s nipple, but Harry intercepted his hand before he could even make a move. He’d learned his tells, too. “Have _you_ , is the question. On that week in Switzerland, maybe? Catching up with old pals?” He suggested, voice a tad too high pitched. “We weren’t exclusive, then. It’s okay if you did.” It wasn’t, but that was Louis’ problem to figure out.

“Nope.” Harry said, popping the _p._ “No one but you.”

Louis tried not to let his relief show too blatantly. “Good.”

 “Good.” Harry parroted, smiling up at him beatifically. “Now fuck me, you fool.”

***

The sun beating down on the back of Louis’ neck made even the water of the small creek appealing as he made his way across it, water up to the horse’s cannons. He’d briefly worried about Darcy somehow being able to tell he’d been riding another horse, earning a full blown belly laugh from Harry, mouth open, eyes crinkled shut.

 _Whatever_ , it was a legitimate concern.

“Baby, let’s head back to the house, yeah?” He swiped his hand at the back of his neck, hissing when the salt of his sweat came in contact with the tender skin of his palm. He wasn’t used to riding without gloves anymore. “It’s so bloody hot today.”

Harry turned back from where he was trotting a few paces ahead of him, and pouted. “But I haven’t shown you my favourite tree yet.”

“And I’m sure it’s lovely, but I’m five minutes away from heat stroke here.” It was a slight exaggeration, as it was only June and they were in Chesire, after all, but still. “Plus, your nan’s roast must be about ready now.”

“My tree has plenty of shade for us.” Harry insisted, “Please, Lou. We won’t be long. Just, like, take your top off and the wind will cool you down.”

Louis looked around the low pasture, perfectly still in the stuffy afternoon air, “There’s no wind, silly.” But he pulled his shirt off anyway, because his sweat was sticking to his back. They’d wandered far enough from the house that he wouldn’t be seen.

“There will be if you race me to my tree.” Harry smirked, dimples popping.

“Harry, _no_.” Louis warned, watching in horror as Harry leaned into a forward seat, hands low on the horse’s neck.

“Harry, _yes_!” He hissed just as he made his horse break into a gallop, turning to yell over his shoulder, “Loser doesn’t get blowjobs for a week!”

“Oh, bloody hell.” Louis bridged his reins and leaned forward, urging his horse to move faster, his shirt flying off in the process and landing on the stream.

***

“Do you want a farewell blowjob to get you through the week? I’m feeling benevolent.”

Louis scoffed and continued to tie his horse to one of the low-lying branches of the tree, Harry tying his own horse to the other side. “How _very kind_ of you.”

“I try.” Harry smirked, ducking under another low branch as he came to stand by Louis’ side. “Where’s your shirt?”

“Fuck knows. Probably floating around the Atlantic by now.”

“Oh.” Harry cocked his head to the side, pensive. “I think the creek flows into a lake, actually. Not sure.”

“Can’t get it back either way.” Louis shrugged, coming to stand in front of Harry. “That’s a weird tree.”

The trunk was massive and some branches laid so low Louis could probably hoist himself up with minimal effort. It was a lone tree, too, nothing but pasture all around them.

“I know, isn’t it awesome?” Harry smiled, before turning and fitting his foot in a dent in the tree trunk with practised ease, hoisting himself up to the lowest level of branches and offering Louis a hand. “It was already here when my grandparents bought the property in the sixties, and the previous owner said they didn’t plant it either. It’s probably, like, a thousand years old.”

“Well, that makes me feel much safer climbing it.” Louis muttered, wincing at the friction of the rough trunk against his reddened palm as he hoisted himself up to the second level of branches after Harry. “Can trees even live that long?”

“No idea.” Harry groaned, straddling a thick branch on the third level, right where the trunk started to taper off. “We’ll google it later. C’mon.”

Louis accepted Harry’s extended hand, sitting sidesaddle between Harry and the trunk like he was a fucking maiden in a Jane Austen novel, because there wasn’t enough space for him to move his leg to straddle it without Harry scooting up too far into the thin part, and Louis wasn’t risking that.

“Okay, Tarzan. I’ve met your tree.” He patted the trunk for good measure. “Can we go back to the house now?”

“In a minute.” Harry murmured, hand to Louis’ thigh for balance as he leaned forward and pulled something from his back pocket, handing it to Louis. It was a vintage Swiss Army knife, Harry pulling the biggest blade out as he asked, “You wanna do the honours?”

Louis’ brow furrowed, looking from the blade to Harry until the younger man jutted his chin out, signalling for Louis to look at the tree.

“Oh my god.” Louis groaned, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips despite himself. “You are so fucking _cheesy_.” He laughed, passing the knife to his other hand so he could clutch Harry’s, his heart beating a staccato happy rhythm inside his chest. “When did you do that?”

“When I was around twelve.” Harry grinned proudly despite the way his hand was sweating in Louis’. “Always hoped I’d get to bring someone here to carve the other half.”

“And you want me to do it?” Louis turned back to Harry, smiling so hard it was impossible to bite it down. “You sure?”

“Absolutely sure.” Harry’s dimples were so deep they might just get stuck like that forever. Louis wouldn’t mind.

He turned back to the tree, knife in hand. He let go of Harry’s hand so he could twist around a bit and lean on the trunk for support, Harry scooting closer and wrapping his arms around his waist, steadying him.

It wasn’t hard at all to carve his name underneath Harry’s, the tree so old that bits of the trunk chipped off to the slightest pressure of the blade. He tried to mirror the shape of the half heart Harry had previously carved out, succeeding to some degree. In the end the two halves looked mismatched mostly because the half Louis had done looked obviously newer, the inside of the tree a richer, fresher maroon than Harry’s slightly faded half.

It was part of its charm, Louis thought as he leaned back against Harry torso, their hands entwined, both admiring the now complete heart shape, **Harry** _\+ Louis_ carved out inside by their hands, twelve years apart.

***

Louis put the saddle back on its support, furtively checking to see if he had his cry nose on in the reflection of the shiny buckle.

He’d had a bit of a cry on the ride back, one or two tears silently sneaking out because he was so happy he couldn’t keep them inside, but surely Harry would be fine not knowing that, especially after Louis’d accused him of being cheesy for leaving a blank space for his soulmate in his carved out heart, and then proceeded to cry over it. That would have to stay between him, and. And –

“Harry, what’s the name of the horse I was on?”

“Bubbles!” Harry bellowed from the other side of the stable, where he was locking the horses in.

 _Yeah_ , between him and _Bubbles_.

“Hey, mum and Robin are here!” Harry said over the sound of tires scrunching the gravel outside.

“ _Shit_.” Louis hurried to his side, nimble fingers untucking Harry’s shirt from his trousers. He’d got the cheeky farewell blowjob after all, leaning against the tree trunk – _on the ground,_ no matter how hard Harry’d begged Louis to let him blow him up in the tree –, which was a perfectly romantic celebration for carving out their names together for eternity on a tree as old as time itself, thank you very much. Louis’d reciprocated, being the gentleman that he clearly was, and why Harry had felt the need to tuck his shirt in after they were done, it escaped Louis’ notice. “Give me your shirt, curly. I can’t meet your mum semi naked.”

“Well, clearly you don’t know the way into her heart.” Harry laughed, but lifted his arms obediently and let Louis pull his shirt off and into his own head.

It had palm fronds in it. Maybe Louis was better off semi naked.

“C’mon, babes. I’m starving.” Harry pulled on his hand, dragging him out of the stables and around the house to the sunroom, leaving Louis to try and single-handedly do up the top buttons he was sure Harry had never used.

***

“Oh, _for Christ’s sake_ , Harry, put some bloody clothes on for once, we’re about to eat here.” Was the first thing Harry’s mum said, salad bowl in hand, before spotting Louis stumbling inside behind him into the sunlit glass structure that opened up into the meadows. “Oh, hello, darling! You must be Louis, the lovely boyfriend!”

Louis had to admire the ability mums in general seemed to possess of giving their children the bollocking of their lives one second and being perfectly cordial to acquaintances the next. His mum was aces at it, too. It was impressive, really. 

“Hi, Mrs. Twist.” Louis extended his hand, mentally planning Harry’s very painful death for not letting him go inside the house to wash up first. “Lovely to finally meet you.”

“Oh, me too, darling! I was starting to think Harry and Gemmy were just pulling an elaborate prank on me.” She leaned in conspiratorially and faux-whispered, “I wouldn’t put it past this one to make up an imaginary boyfriend to get rid of my nagging.”

Harry huffed indignantly, butting in between Louis and his mother and breaking their handshake, “Well, _mother,_ as you can see he is very much real, now if you’ll excuse us,” He took Louis’ hand in his, starting to pull him inside the house, “We’ll wash up before lunch, ok?”

“Sure, bumble bee.” She smiled beatifically, dimples creased into her tan skin. “Then you can go help Robin and granddad fire up the barbecue and Louis can help me and nan with the potato salad, okay?”

Louis nodded obediently, even though he knew Harry would give him shit later for how well-behaved he was being.

“I thought we were having a roast?” Harry paused, scratching at his bellybutton with his hand not currently holding Louis’.

“Oh, Robin’s brought meat.” Edith clapped her hands together happily, doing what in Louis’ opinion was a quite spot on impression of the way Mary from Bake Off lit up whenever someone told her there was alcohol in their recipe. “Now, chop chop, loves! You know that grill has too many buttons for your granddad to know how to use it.” She made a shooing motion with her little hands at the both of them, calling after them, “Put a shirt on, Harry!”

***

“So, Louis, how do you like the estate so far?”

Louis looked up from very carefully slicing up vegetables for the grill in perfectly even slices -He was determined to impress-, finding Edith looking at him expectantly, Anne mixing up the dressing to her side.

“Oh, I love it!” Louis answered truthfully, alternating between looking up at them and down at the knife. Accidentally chopping off his fingers would not do. “It’s gorgeous, innit? The views are amazing, and the manor house, _wow._ ”

“Oh, yeah, it’s a treasure. Did Harry tell you it’s listed? Arthur always says we ought to rent it for functions – weddings and such, you know?” She waved her cooking spatula around, Louis nodding along, his chopping slowing down. “But it’s too far away from the city, I think. Who would come all the way to Holmes Chapel for a wedding reception?”

“I don’t know, mum. You’ve got people from all the way up to Lancashire enrolled in the riding school, I think it’s doable.” Anne ponded, fingers working deftly on the ball whisk. “But you two are about to retire, anyway. It’s up to them, now.” She nodded her head in Louis’ direction, scooping a tiny portion of the cream into her mouth. “Hm, needs more lemon.”

“Bottom drawer of the fridge, love.” Edith pointed out, Anne getting up and retreating into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” Louis looked up at Harry’s nan, his chopping stopping altogether. “Who’s ‘them’? You’re selling the property?”

“Well, hopefully not, love.” She laughed, adjusting a stray curl from her pure white half-up do in a way that was so Harry it made Louis want to laugh, or maybe scream into the void. “It’s you and Harry, of course.”

Louis waited for clarification for about ten seconds, unblinkingly. “Me and Harry?”

“Unless Gemmy develops a sudden interest in horses, of course, but at this point I’d say the chances are pretty slim.” She grinned down as if sharing a private joke with the potato salad. Louis could only stare. “Obviously you two would have to buy out her half, maybe take on a small mortgage for it, though if you keep winning like you do now and are responsible with your money, I don’t see why you’d need to.”

“What did I miss?” Anne returned to the sunroom, peeled lemons in hand. “Louis, love, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Edith looked up then, understanding dawning on her. “ _Oh._ Oh, my, Harry’s going to kill me.” She said to Anne, hand coming up to her mouth to stifle her giggles. She turned to him. “You boys haven’t had that talk yet, have you?”

“What talk?” Louis’ gaze went from one woman to the other, vegetables forgotten. “What are you talking about?”

Mother and daughter shared a look, a silent conversation passing on between them.

“All right,” Anne said, an excited, giddy smiled sneaking its way out as she sat down back at the table. “Promise not to say a word to Harry, though, will you? He already thinks we meddle enough.”

Louis nodded without hesitation, gaze expectant.

“Well, as much as Arthur and I love the horse yard, we want to retire sometime in the next five years,” Edith started. “We’re simply getting too old to run it, and I know there’s a cruise cabin somewhere with our name on it.” She winked, Anne shaking her head fondly. “We’d hate to sell it though, it’s our life’s work after all, and if we manage to find a co-owner for Harry’s horse, that and the few investments we have will give us a nice enough financial cushion that we won’t even have to. Gemmy and Harry are set to inherit the property anyways, so we thought, why not have Harry run it?” She shrugged her frail shoulders, scooping a handful of ground mint leaves to sprinkle over the potato salad. “He loves this place as much as we do, he loves horses, and we know we’d always be welcome for a visit that way. Plus, he’d have to find another occupation eventually anyway – your careers are very profitable but they are not long-term, are they? You’ll hardly be riding professionally twenty, thirty years from now.”

“That’s lovely.” Louis smiled, “It might be a bit tricky to find time to be here while he’s still on the Olympic team, but I’m sure he’ll be over the moon when you tell him. I still don’t understand what that has to do with me though, sorry.”

“Well, love.” Anne smiled conspiratorially, clasping her delicate hands in front of her on the table and leaning her chin on them. “We _did_ tell him. He said he’d love to take over the yard in a few years,” she paused, her smile growing, eyebrows waggling. “But only if you wanted it too.”

***

Rain poured heavy on the windows of Louis’ sleek sedan, Harry behind the wheel as they sped south on the following morning. Louis could barely make out the cars in the neighbouring lane as he looked out the fogged up window, one of Harry’s soulful playlists playing from his sound system.

After his secret conversation with Harry’s mum and nan, where he learned he’d been invited to the yard with the intent of being acquainted with the property that could possibly be his home in five years’ time, Louis had spent the rest of the day expecting Harry to bring it up every time he opened his mouth, but the weather had turned sour a few hours after lunch in true British fashion, and between playing cards with his family and snuggling under a fleece blanket in the chilly sunroom after his parents had left and his grandparents had retreated to the annexe, Harry didn’t.

There was still so much up in the air, and they’d previously only tentatively breeched the subject of _maybe, possibly_ renting a house just for the two of them on the next training season, that it might seem absurd to factor the other in on such major life decisions, but somehow it wasn’t. Louis was glad that Harry felt it too, that deep-rooted certainty that their futures were entwined together, even then.

“Lou, do you have signal on your phone?”

Louis was pulled out of his reverie by Harry’s wobbling voice. His eyes flicked from Harry’s tense profile, to his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, to his plugged in phone showing _No Service_ and _08:00,_ _15 June_. His pulse sped up, hands coming to his back pocket automatically. “Is it…?”

“Yeah. Deadline was up yesterday, but it was Sunday.” Harry shoulders gave a feeble shrug, his eyes not straying from the road. “I checked anyway and there was nothing on the website, but they usually update it around 9 AM, their time zone, so, right about now.”

“Harry, love, why didn’t you say anything? I would’ve called in sick!” He pressed the home button on his phone, an identical message showing. “I’ve got no signal too.”

“I didn’t want to read the decision in front of my family.” Harry bit his lip guiltily, his eyes darting to Louis’ before returning to the road. The heavy rain was pounding increasingly harder against the windshield. “I was going to wait until we got home to check it, but– I _can’t._ I can’t wait.”

“Of course, love.” He turned the heat on, looking out the window for any signs of motorway service areas. “We should pull over at the next MSA, though, alright? You shouldn’t be driving like this, Harry. You’re shaking.”

“I know.” Harry sighed, his left hand coming down to twine with Louis’ right one over the console. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Louis responded immediately, squeezing Harry’s hand. “I think that sign said there’s a service area in three miles, okay? Just a few more minutes.”

Harry only nodded.

Their phones started to vibrate with notifications barely a minute later. Harry’s eyes darted to his, but Louis was quicker and turned it face down. “Keep driving, babe.”

“Yeah, ok.” Harry nodded to himself, eyes back on the road, his movements jerky. “Open the website, Lou. See if the file’s there, at least. We could be getting worked up over nothing.”

Louis unlocked his phone, bypassing all notifications and opening his browser, typing in the FEI website’s address with shaky fingers. It loaded quickly from the countless times Louis had accessed it over the past week, hoping against hope for an early decision, already logged in on Harry’s account.

He clicked onto the athletes section and then on the FEI Tribunal link, pausing the music as Harry turned the blinker on, the motorway service area in sight.

The page loaded. The top link on the list of documents was:

 **_DECISION of the FEI TRIBUNAL_ ** _– 2015/Alleged Horse Abuse, CSI-W Final Las Vegas, NV (USA) - 15-19 April 2015, dated 15 June 2015_

“It’s here.”

“ _Shit._ ” Harry muttered under his breath as he turned into the crowded service area. “Open it.”

Louis clicked onto the PDF link, but it crashed immediately. “I’ve got no service again. No, wait…” His frustration was mounting as he pressed repeatedly on the refresh button. “I’ve got one bar, but no data. _Fucking rain._ ”

Harry skidded the car into a stop on the first parking spot he saw, one hand flying to the clutch while the other pulled the ignition off. “Let’s go into the convenience store. There’s got to be Wi-Fi there.” His hands trembled as he snatched his phone and the car keys, not waiting for Louis as he threw the door open – it banged against the car parked by his side – and climbed off.

Louis had one hand on the door lock when the file loaded. He called for Harry, but the other man was already too many steps ahead to be overheard over the pouring rain. His fingers scrolled down shakily, barely registering his own name in the witnesses list as he passed page after page until the last item, _Decision._

He had to grip his phone with both hands to read, his palms sweaty, water trickling in through the door Harry’d left open, his eyes skimming through and finally finding it. _As a result of the foregoing, the Tribunal concludes… did not provide sufficient evidence to substantiate a case of abuse against the Competitor… limited compensation in the amount of CHF 8,000.- to be paid by the FEI to the Competitor… In view of the above, the Automatic Suspension is to be lifted…_

He pushed his door open – it banged against the next car, its alarm going off. Louis didn’t care at all, shouting “Harry!!” over it at the top of his lungs as his feet propelled him through the car park, the downpour getting him drenched in seconds as he sprinted to where Harry was paralysed mid-turn, phone still clutched in his hands. “Innocent! Harry!”

Louis only had about three seconds to register the understanding dawning on Harry’s face before he crashed full force into him, both scraping their elbows as they fell to the asphalt in a tangle of limbs. It was of no consequence, none of it – neither their scrapes nor Harry’s soaked and probably broken phone; not the water pouring into his car through the open doors or the scratches they’d done on the cars on either side; not the fact that they were making a scene in the middle of a M1 service area or that Louis was going to be incredibly late for training.

None of it mattered, because their nightmare was over, Harry was _free_ , and Louis was drowning in relief as they laughed and kissed and hugged right there where they’d fallen.

***

The sound of their wet clothing slapping against the linoleum floor ricocheted through the empty flat, Louis shivering against the slight breeze.

“There’s a draft in here somewhere.” He swirled his finger around, bending to pull off his sodden trousers and socks. “God, I hate spring rain. I’m fucking drenched.”

Harry looked up from rolling his wet jeans down his legs. “Maybe Zayn left a window open.”

“I’ll check.” Louis stepped out of his pants, walking further into the flat completely naked.

“I’ll do a load of washing.” Harry called, already gathering their discarded clothing. “Don’t forget to forward me the mechanic’s bill!”

“Sure, love.” Louis called over his shoulder distractedly, stepping into the open door of the bathroom. Sure enough, the tiny window above the bath was open, droplets of rain water spattering off the windowsill and down the bathroom wall.

Louis stepped into the empty bath, going on his tiptoes to turn the latch on the high window. Soon he heard footsteps echoing down the hall and into the bathroom, and moments later he felt a hard pinch on his left bum cheek.

“Ouch!” Louis jerked forward, his soft dick pressing uncomfortably against the icy bathroom tiles. “What the fuck, Harold?”

“Send me the bill, Louis, I mean it.” Harry said as he stepped inside the bath behind him, the length of his naked front pressing against him as he stretched up and closed the window. “I was the one who scratched one of the cars and left the door open.”

“I literally _just said_ I’d forward it, Harold, what’s with the violence?” He turned to face him, massaging his sore bum cheek.

“You used your patronising tone,” Harry splayed each hand on the wall above Louis’ shoulders, caging him in. “Like when you told Liam we’d go to Alton Towers with him and Niall even though you were never planning on going.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you hate roller coasters.” Louis pointed, looking up at him. Harry’s hair was a wild bird’s nest from their impromptu celebration in the car park. Watching him very seriously exchange contact information with the owners of the cars they’d scratched had been a test to Louis’ poker face.

“Don’t use that tone with me.” Harry continued, staring straight at him.

“Okay, _fine,_ ” Louis huffed, crossing his arms. “Harry, I won’t let you reimburse me for the scratches because you’ll already have to buy a new phone, and I don’t mind sharing the costs. Happy?”

“That phone was old anyway, and it’s not fair. The scratches were my fault.”

“Babe, c’mon.” Louis went on his tiptoes to peck Harry’s mouth, “If you’re so keen on paying me back you can, like, give me road head next time we go up north.” He smirked, hands coming down to squeeze Harry’s bum cheeks. “That’s fitting, right?”

“We’ll crash.” Harry scoffed, but there was a tiny smile pulling on his lips. “Death by cocksucking.”

“What a way to go, though.” Louis laughed, his semi-hard cock bumping Harry’s. He had a too hot boyfriend for his cock to stay indifferent to his naked presence.

“On a scale of one to ten, how fucked will you be if you’re another hour late?” Harry winked, one hand extending to turn on the shower knob, walking them under the stream.

“I called in sick.” He smiled, rubbing his groin against Harry’s. “Oh, and Paul said to tell you he’s very happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Harry smiled, combing Louis’ wet hair back with his fingers. “I’m very happy for me too.” He laughed, throwing his head back. “ _God,_ I can’t believe it’s over. I feel like I’ve dropped two stones.”

“Please don’t.” Louis remarked, hands running from his arse to his thighs. “I like you thick.”

“Do ya?” Harry smirked, fingers pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck until he could seal their mouths for a smacked kiss, “Lou,” He mumbled, spreading little nips across Louis’ bottom lip. “Can we do the thing again? From my birthday?”

Louis’ cock twitched as he gave an involuntary horny exhale, Harry’s smile spreading against his lips. “Yeah? You want to?” He sucked Harry’s bottom lip in, biting at it until Harry groaned.

“Yeah.” Harry shuddered on an exhale, “I just, I’ve been so –“

"It's okay, baby." Louis soothed, hands running through his back, "Of course we can." He pulled Harry closer until he could bury his head in the curve of his neck. "Want me to wash your hair?"

Harry nodded, adding as an afterthought, "Yeah."

"Okay," Louis stepped back and around him, bending to get the bath plugged up, turning the faucet on as well. "Why don't you sit, baby? I'll be just a minute, okay?"

He stepped out onto the bathroom mat, dripping, wrapping a towel around his middle while Harry gingerly sat down on the bath, water steadily rising around him.

He switched the lights off on his way out so that only the late morning light filtered through the fogged up window, entering the bedroom and going straight for the brown non-descript box they'd stored on the top shelf of the dresser upon moving back into London two weeks ago. Due to the stress of the investigation Harry'd completely forgotten to look for a flat, and there hadn't been much discussion on the topic of them sharing Louis' bedroom – it had just been assumed. He wondered, crazily, if that's how things would go with the yard too, if Harry'd invite him to stay for a while and Louis would just… stay forever.

He shook his head, smiling privately as he opened the box and took out the plush handcuffs, edible body oil and vibrating prostate massager he'd got for Harry's birthday in February along with the pink YSL ankle boots Louis'd seen him eyeing once but didn't dare buy. He didn't know which memory he was fonder of; if it was the look on Harry's face when he saw the boots or when Louis'd made him come for the third time in a row.

He left the items on the bedside table along with the lube and condoms (they really needed to find time to go to the clinic before Harry resumed training, they'd already missed their first appointment), grabbing a pair of scented candles and taking one with him back to the bathroom.

When he returned, Harry'd turned the faucet off, leaving just enough water for the head of his hard dick to peek through. Louis exhaled deeply, his own towel tented, and deposited the candle on the counter, lighting it up. Harry scooted forward so that Louis could get in behind him, sitting at the edge of the bath with Harry's head pillowed on his inner thigh as he squirted Harry's fancy tea tree shampoo on his palm and started to clean his scalp. He used the smaller shower head to rinse it off, spending countless minutes massaging the conditioner on his hair until Harry was slumped against him, breathing slowed.

He stepped off and back inside until he could kneel in the vee of Harry's open legs, resting at each side of the bath. He used a pink loofah to scrub up Harry's legs oh so carefully, one at a time, until Harry whined and canted his hips up each time Louis 'accidentally' brushed the loofah against his hard dick. He didn't try to speed things up, though, content in being the centre of Louis' attention.

He was so beautiful. Louis knew, objectively, that Harry was pretty fucking fit, but it still felt unreal, how much he was attracted to him - before Harry he couldn't have fathomed ever wanting anyone as much as he did him, it was an all-consuming feeling that made his body go taut with want. He often caught himself getting hard just thinking about the softness of the skin at the crease of Harry's thighs, or the smell at the junction between his neck and shoulder, or how red his lips looked stretched around Louis' cock.

Louis' skin was flushed and he was so, so hard just by looking at him, spread out on the bath, sunlight making his skin pearly, his wet curls fanning his shoulder, nipples pert and abs taut, his thick cock standing proud, water lapping at it from their movements.

Louis scrubbed up Harry's torso and down both his arms before giving in and wrapping a hand around his dick, stroking him slowly, no trace of urgency in his movements. His other hand trailed behind Harry's balls and down to his hole, Harry sighing happily and canting his hips higher to give Louis better access while Louis rubbed his soaped up hand up and down his crack. He wanted to get his mouth on him, though, so he let go of Harry to stretch over him and grab the shower head again, rinsing Harry clean of conditioner and soap even as he urged him to stand up again, leading the way into the bedroom without bothering to towel off, both leaving a wet trail behind them.

He watched as Harry scooted up the bed, thigh muscles flexing.

"God, Haz," Louis kneeled his way over, dropping the bottle of lube on the bed by his side as his hands ran up the length of Harry's legs. "You're so fucking fit." A slow smile spread over Harry's face, his hard cock bobbing with the purposeful flex of his abs. "Want you so much."

Louis leaned down and fit their mouths together, because getting to kiss his boy was always going to be his favourite thing, and the way Harry writhed underneath him was so fucking beautiful it took Louis' breath away. They separated with a wet smack, Louis leaning back and maneuvering Harry onto his stomach, a fresh wave of arousal shooting through him as he watched the way Harry's arms bulged when he dragged them up and pillowed his cheek on his hands.

Louis buried his hand in Harry's hair, pulling and dragging it to the side so he could nose at the nape of his neck, his other arm supporting him above Harry's body. "You smell so good." He pressed his nose there and inhaled deeply, overwhelmed by the familiar smell of him, strong and earthy and so fucking alluring. "Taste so good, too." He sunk his teeth on the bump where his spine met his neck, feeling Harry shudder under him. He kissed the sore spot, spreading kisses and licks over each bump of his spine, slowly making his way down, his hands running down Harry's sides, feeling his torso tapper out into his small waist and hips as he kissed down the dip of his spine.

He flattened his tongue for slower, broader licks across the dimples in his spine, getting comfortable between Harry's spread legs, his hands grabbing the globes of Harry's pert bum and spreading them apart without difficulty. Harry moaned in anticipation then, his hips undulating in minute thrusts against the sheets. Louis poised his tongue at the top of his crack, letting go of Harry's arse cheeks and propping his elbows on the mattress, urging him to move with a tap on his hips.

Harry exhaled pointedly, hands clenching and unclenching in the sheets, his legs shifting to give him more leverage as he very slowly lifted his hips, Louis tongue following the down curve of his crack as his head remained in place, his tongue sliding down until it poked against his hole, Harry moaning wretchedly above him.

He held his head still as Harry moved his hips, pushing against him until Louis' face was buried in his arse, tongue out and wiggling against Harry's opening, pushing past the tight ring of muscle to lick inside, Harry's breathy moans music to his ears.

He lost himself in it, hands wrapping around Harry's thighs to anchor him, and let him push against his face however he wanted, and just having Harry like this, on all fours and spread open for him was enough to make Louis' dick blurt out an almost steady drip of precome onto the sheets, hard to the point of aching.

He pulled back when Harry's movements started to get jerky, smoothing his hand up the back of his thighs before asking, "Do you wanna come now?"

The hesitation that followed was all the confirmation Louis needed, a slow smile spreading over his face. "Not yet, right, babe? Not done playing with you yet."

He urged Harry onto his back again, making a measured reach for the handcuffs on the nightstand, Harry's eyes following him. He trailed his hands down Harry's arms, and very slowly, very gently took his wrists in his hands, dragging them up the bed until they touched, propped against the wiry headboard. He secured the handcuff around one wrist, guiding it behind the metal rod before securing it onto Harry's other wrist so that he was handcuffed to it, hands trailing back down the underside of Harry's arms.

"So gorgeous like this," He scratched his nails through the coarse hair on Harry's armpit, making him squirm.

The sound of the lube bottle popping open was loud in the otherwise silent room, both trying to control their panting breaths. Louis held eye contact as he sunk a finger inside, watching as Harry's bitten red mouth popped open in a silent moan. He was efficient about it, eager to get to the next part, and it wasn't long before he could fit in three of his fingers, tracking a bead of sweat making its way down Harry's torso and pooling at his belly button, his tummy rising and twitching in rhythm with the twists of Louis' hand.

He grabbed [the toy](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/71QEJTIyS6L._SX355_.jpg) he'd set aside earlier, heat coiling in his belly at Harry’s tiny little horny exhale. “What’s your colour, babe?”

Harry licked his lips, a small smile tugging at the corners. "Green, babe."

Louis'd come to realise that Harry was much better than him at delaying gratification. He thrived in being denied, being edged. There was none of the frantic desperation that clawed at Louis' insides when he was the one giving up control, to the point where only the weight of Harry's hand smacking down on his arse settled him. Instead, Harry welcomed whatever Louis wanted, no need for wrestling him into submission. It was quite delicious.

Harry threw his head back and groaned when Louis started to edge the toy inside, his hole stretching to accommodate the girth as it got wider the further Louis pushed it inside, then clamping down on it when it narrowed down again. It was a magnificent view, one that Louis wasn't usually privy to when he slipped his own cock inside due to the narrow angle, but watching Harry's pink ring of muscles accept the foreign shape into his body, bead by bead, was a show in its own.

Once the vibrating base was snug against Harry's perineum, Louis switched it on to the lowest setting, a gentle humming sound filling the air as Harry's cock jerked and his stomach muscles spasmed, the handcuffs rattling against the headboard.

"God, oh fuck-" He panted, biting his lip and groaning when Louis pressed the heel of his hand on the toy, fitting it more firmly against the sensitive skin behind Harry's balls.

He rearranged Harry's legs so that they were spread in a butterfly position with Louis in the middle, the soles of Harry's feet pressing against each side of his hips. He gripped the vibrator's base and angled the C shape outwards, a slow smile spreading over his face when Harry heaved a choked off cry and his cock started to blurt the steady stream of pre-come that was the sure-fire sign of his prostate being stimulated, drop after drop of glistening thick substance erupting from the head of his cock.

He kept his pressure on the base of the toy, moving it from side to side so that the tip buried inside Harry rubbed across his prostate. Harry's hips kept trying to hump the air, the tendons on his inner thighs flexing with the effort, Louis' other hand on his hip anchoring him in place. Louis knew that he shouldn't touch Harry's cock, not yet, but he couldn't resist leaning down and sucking a bruise right at the junction of Harry's inner thigh and groin, biting almost to the point of breaking the skin. He leaned back to admire his handiwork, changing the motions of the hand holding the vibrating massager to circular little grinds, Harry's resulting pained whine echoing in the room.

"Louis- I- I'm-" Harry gasped right before pearly white come started to flow out of his cock, slowly and gently, dripping down the side of his cock to pool at the base.

After they'd done this at Harry's birthday, he'd told Louis that it felt like being on the edge of coming for ages, the sensation different from that of a regular ejaculation but more intense in its own way. Louis watched as tears spilled from the corners of Harry's tightly shut eyes, his mouth dropped open and gasping for breaths like he was drowning, his whole body convulsing, making Louis follow the movements of his hips with the vibrator, while keeping the constant pressure against his prostate.

He never turned it higher than the gentlest setting, wanting Harry to still be able to orgasm after he was done, and only gently slipped the toy out after several minutes of watching rapt as Harry writhed in bliss.

He set it aside and reached for the condom, making quick work of rolling it on and adding an extra coat of lube. He could already feel his orgasm tugging at his gut, aroused to the point of breaking from teasing Harry with the massager. He'd long ago given up trying to figure out which scenarios made him the hardest - he figured he had a Harry kink, since everything they did made him horny to the point of embarrassment, whether he was the one in or giving up control.

He inched inside very, very slowly, mindful of Harry's sensitive state, and leaned down to peck his bitten bottom lip. "Colour?"

"Green." Harry responded immediately, voice shot. "Fuck, that was- You've got to try this."

Louis hummed noncommittally, mind already fuzzy from the vice grip of Harry on his cock. He started to move at the same time as he tugged on Harry's cock, wanting to bring him over the edge before he could follow.

"Fuck, Haz."

"Faster," Harry moaned, moving his legs to lock around Louis' waist. "Fuck me, _oh god_ , fuck me harder."

Louis keened, hips speeding up as his wrist started to ache from the awkward angle he was using to jerk Harry off. He concentrated on the burn at the back of his thighs instead, like he did when galloping on his horse, focusing on maintaining an even rhythm for however long it took to push Harry over the edge.

He didn't have to wait long, it turned out, because barely two minutes later Harry threw his head back and came, only a lonely rope of come spurting from his angry red cock. Louis moaned and buried himself inside, grinding into Harry as he felt himself shoot into the condom.

He wished desperately for it to disappear, for him to be able to slip out of Harry and leave traces of himself behind.

***

He was massaging lotion into the handcuff marks on Harry's wrists when his phone lit up with a call. He frowned down at the unknown number, Harry leaning over him to peer at the screen.

"Oh," Harry frowned, "That's my manager. I didn't know she had your number."

"Must've got it from your mum when you weren't answering yours." Louis shrugged passing the phone over to Harry and flopping back down onto the newly changed sheets, stretching his sore muscles. He sighed happily and relaxed back into the cool fabric, mind pleasantly blank until it tuned in on Harry's conversation.

"Yeah, no, I know, I'll buy another one today." Harry said into the phone, pacing back and forth across their bedroom. He was a walker, Harry, couldn't keep still while talking on the phone. Louis wasn't sure he was supposed to find every facet of Harry's personality this endearing.

"Really? What did they say?" Louis opened one eye at Harry's surprised tone, but the taller man had his back to him. "Are you sure they said June's issue? That's out, like, this weekend."

Louis' heart started beating faster, his post-orgasmic bliss dissipating in a wave of nervous sweat.

"No. No, it wasn't me. I didn't know anything about it."

Louis clamped his eyes shut as Harry turned back to him, pacing towards the bed. Maybe if he pretended he fell asleep...

"Okay, alright. Yeah, I'll give them a call." Louis felt the bed dip as Harry climbed on, kneeling his way over. "Alright, cheers." He heard the tell-tale sound of his phone being locked, his body jostling as Harry manhandled Louis into his side.

Well, that couldn't be too bad if Harry still wanted to cuddle him, could it?

"Guess what?" Harry asked, burying his nose on the curve of Louis' neck, arms winding around him as they laid sideways on the bed.

"What?" Louis asked around a mouthful of curls, confused by Harry's demeanour when he was sure Harry would be annoyed over his involvement.

" _Horse & Hound_ and _BBC Sports_ want to interview me. For this month's cover."

Louis was quiet for a beat. "Really?"

"Yep." Harry answered against his collarbone, full of giddy energy, his legs slotting in between Louis'. "They want to do it this week already; the magazine will be out just in time for Hickstead! My manager is blown away."

That was... An _interesting_ turn. Louis hadn't counted on Harry not figuring out his involvement in getting him on the cover of the most read equestrian news outlet just in time for the biggest national event of the year. Instead he'd fully anticipated having to explain why he had that kind of leverage and then dealing with Harry's subsequent jealousy and possible unwillingness to do the goddamn interview.

Having Harry do it and get on the cover and never find out Louis was the one who made it happen was just too tempting to resist, was the thing. It was too tempting, especially because for the next two weeks Harry would have to train like a madman in order to have something presentation-worthy in time for Hickstead, and after all the stress he'd endured over the investigation, the last thing he needed was a fight. The last thing _they both_ needed, if Louis was being honest, because the past six weeks hadn’t been a walk in the park for him either.

He would obviously tell Harry after the interview had gone to print and he'd presented at Hickstead, but he could keep a secret for two weeks, for Harry's own good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://leavingonatrain.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/anarambles)  
> [fic's post](http://leavingonatrain.tumblr.com/post/131246281790/fic-one-for-luck-by-leavingonatrain-larryziam)


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiiii hello, it's been a while, huh? I do apologise for the delay, sometimes adult life gets in the way of fic. BUT, for those of you who stuck around, IT IS HERE!!  
> I'm going to post the final chapter tomorrow because Kelci my beta and saviour is taking a last look at it, but worry not because the fic is all done :))  
> Thanks for reading!

The sound of birds chirping gently pulled Louis from sleep. He sighed deeply, stretching his toes towards the end of the bed and burying his nose further into the sleep-warm nest of Harry's curls. He took a deep breath in, the faded minty scent making the insides of his nostrils tingly along with Harry's unique, earthy smell. A resulting pang of arousal shot down his spine to settle low on his gut, making Louis realise he was already hard.

He also realised he was not on their bed in Buckinghamshire anymore, despite what the early morning sounds had led him to believe. The sleepy fog slowing down his thought process started to dissipate as Louis braced one elbow on the bed to look over Harry's shoulder, finding his mobile vibrating on the nightstand, his fancy alarm app playing the deceitful nature sounds. He smiled to himself – _someone_ was missing the countryside.

Louis extended his arm over Harry's still sleeping form and turned the alarm off, leaving only the quiet stillness of the early London morning reverberating off the walls. He brought his extended arm down to curl around Harry's body, his hand splaying on Harry's slow-moving belly while his nose buried in the creamy skin behind his ear. They were both sleep-sweaty, too far into June to still be sleeping under a duvet, their skin sticking together as Louis inhaled the smell of him once again, his hand inching down until it bumped on Harry's morning hard-on. He smiled before dragging his lips over the side of Harry's neck and shoulder, his fingers digging their way inside Harry's boxers to circle around his cock, hard and warm and so fucking enticing.

Louis loved his boyfriend's cock, thick and smooth, standing proud at the vee of his hips. He pumped his hand slowly, dragging the foreskin up and then all the way down, dragging the material of his exposed head against the smooth fabric of his boxers. Harry gave the tell-tale shuddery inhale of his arousal, muscles twitching. Louis pushed himself into a sitting position; his hand never faltering inside Harry's pants, and scooted away until he could urge Harry onto his back.

Harry’s eyelids fluttered open then, his mouth puffy from sleep with pillow creases deep at the right side of his face.

He was gorgeous.

"Morning." Louis smiled, pulling Harry's cock out at the same time as he lowered his head and licked at his slit.

Harry moaned, his hands flying to Louis' sleep tousled hair and burying deep. "Wh- _Morning_ ," Harry croaked, groaning when Louis wrapped his mouth around the head and used the momentum from his sucks to pull himself down.

Giving head in the morning was easier for him, since he could deep-throat Harry better on an empty stomach, his gag reflex not as strong as when he'd eaten. He pressed his tongue to the underside of Harry's cock, rotating until he could settle between his parted legs, sitting on top of his feet and bending down at the waist. He gripped Harry's hips for balance as he sucked, spurred on by Harry's nonsensical babbling, his hands tight on Louis' hair. His throat itched as the head went past it, Louis clearing his throat a couple of times and making Harry groan from the intense vibration. He took a deep breath and slid down further, until the trimmed hairs at the base of Harry's cock tickled his nose, his lips covering his teeth and clamped tight around the girth of Harry's cock to create a vacuum as he sucked, his throat muscles trying to swallow Harry’s cockhead down.

"Fuck, Lou," Harry grunted a pained groan, his whole body taut. "Your mouth's like a fuckin' hoover."

Louis choked as incontrollable laughter bubbled up around a mouthful of cock, his throat convulsing as he pulled back, somehow trying to laugh and choke at the same time.

"Fuck, Haz," he squeezed out between laughing coughs, his hand coming up to swipe at the spit that dribbled from the side of his mouth. Harry looked an interesting mix of guilty, turned on and frustrated, bottom lip pulled between his teeth and cock still gently bobbing from Louis' violent retreat. Louis took deep breaths, resisting the urge to cough some more. "Don't say shit like that when I've got your cock down my throat."

"Sorry," Harry answered, not looking sorry in the slightest. "C'mere." He extended his arm, fingers making grabby motions in Louis' direction.

Louis chuckled, his body still shaking from residual laugh, and crawled over him, pulling his own cock out before lowering himself over Harry's body, his dick rubbing against Harry's spit slick one.

He kissed Harry's adam's apple and buried his nose under his chin, the smell of Harry especially pronounced there. Harry's hands settled heavily over Louis' arsecheeks, kneading the supple flesh in his large hands.

Louis' throat and belly hurt from laughing, and he wished he could freeze that moment in time and keep it in his memory in all its minucious detail, from the way his toes dragged across the fine hairs on Harry's calf to the rhythm in which his body went up and down along with Harry's laboured breaths; from the pleasant burn of pleasure in his groin to the strong beat of Harry's pulse point where Louis' face was buried on his neck.

“You gonna finish getting me off, or what?”

Louis laughed, hips making a half-arsed attempt to thrust against Harry’s. “Get yourself off. I’m too comfortable.”

Harry sighed, mock-aggravated, knees knocking against Louis’ until he could push both his legs up in between Louis’, plant his feet on the bed for leverage and start a lazy grinding rhythm, helped by the pressure of his hands on Louis’ cheeks bearing his hips down on Harry’s cock.

Louis still came first, something about being manhandled and used for Harry’s pleasure, twisting his insides deliciously. He didn’t move even as Harry spurted between them, adding to the mess on their bellies, the heat underneath the duvet nearly unbearable.

He was almost dozing off, back to sleep, when, “Why are we up, anyway?” Harry mumbled, voice just as sleep-thick again. “’s not even six.”

“I dunno,” Louis slurred, “t’was your alarm.”

There was silence again, Louis sighing and cuddling further into Harry’s neck, when Harry groaned, pained.

“Wuh?”

“The clinic. ‘S today.”

“Nooo.” Louis groaned, trying to bury his face in further. In that moment, nothing sounded worse than to be probed and prodded at the GP before the day had even properly started. “Let’s skip it. Sleep.”

“We already skipped once,” Harry pointed out. He sounded more awake by the second. Louis hated it. “C’mon, we wanted to do it before Hickstead, remember? We’re already late. It’s either shower or breakfast, c’mon.”

Louis sighed, resigned. He pushed himself up, their skin making a sticky sound as it separated, and looked down at the mess on both their stomachs. “Shower, definitely.”

***

Louis yawned pointedly as he waited for Harry to finish manoeuvring the car into a spot at the car park of the clinic, watching the early morning fog still hanging thick over London. They got out and started to make their way into the building, their movements still slowed by sleep even after showering.  Later in the day they’d be driving to the south of the UK for Hickstead, and even though neither of them could formally compete for the prizes since it was a national competition and they were already on the British team, they’d still be watched by every single person in the UK who took an interest in equestrian sports, so naturally their training schedule had been adjusted accordingly – and by that he meant that it had sucked the life out of them.

Harry’s training in particular had taken its toll on him – his trainer had decided that Harry’d lost too much core strength during his two months out of the paddock and had made him ride without stirrups for hours on end.

On the plus side, his abs and V line were now more appealing than ever, Louis had caught himself drooling over them on more than one occasion, but that was neither here nor there.

The reception area of the clinic was blessedly empty, only a tired-looking nurse dozing off behind the counter. They checked in for their appointments, filling out the paperwork and being told that the doctor would arrive shortly as her shift only started at seven.

They sat on the uncomfortable plastic chairs of the waiting room, the telly showing BBC news on mute, only the hum of the water filter by the corner filling the room.

Harry’s stomach growled loudly and they both quietly chuckled.

“I saw a Spars round the corner when we were getting here, want me to fetch you something to eat?” Louis asked, leaning in to nip at the fabric of Harry’s hoodie. “Nurse said we don’t have to be fasting for the exams.”

“I’ll come with,” Harry said, leaning forward.

“No, stay here. If she calls one of us you can go first.” Louis pecked his lips, getting up and making his way out.

Outside it was already a bit warmer, Louis pulling his – well, Harry’s – beanie off and stuffing it in his hoodie pocket. He rounded the corner towards the Spars he’d seen further down the block, only the stray car or double decker bus on the road this early.

He entered the small shop, the automatic doors squeaking as they opened for him. He nodded at the bloke on the counter, making his way towards the back where they kept the muffins, grabbing one for himself and one for Harry. The espresso machine had an ‘Out of order’ sign stuck to it, as did every other Spars in the bloody country, so Louis grabbed two cans of Diet Coke for caffeine, then a pack of mix ‘n match sliced fruit because Harry would moan about an unhealthy breakfast, and then another one for himself because the label said “2 for £3”.

He was waiting for the cashier to ring his items in when a familiar face caught his eye over at the magazine stand. An involuntary smile spread over his face as he bent over and picked the magazine up, adding it to his pile of items.

Harry still hadn’t been called when he returned, so they ate in silence with their breakfast in a chair between them, and Louis ate every fruit from his pack plus the raspberries in Harry’s, because Harry didn’t like them.

They were called for their exams at 7 sharp, being led to a corridor of small exam rooms where they had their blood drawn by a nurse and, separately, had the doctor ask them questions about their sexual life and examine them – the whole process every bit as awkward as it had the right to be.

Louis had just exited the doctor’s office, frowning from having his balls squeezed, when the sleepy nurse from the front desk came to where they were both sitting, small recipients in hand.

“We’re going to need a sperm sample, poppets, and then you’re free to go.” She handed one small container to each of them, their names printed on the label. “Please go into these rooms over there, _separately_ –“ she added just as Harry’d opened his mouth, “–but feel free to use your own resources.”

She guided each to a small room that contained a small armchair that Louis wouldn’t dare sit on and not much else. Louis took his Horse & Hound issue out of the carrier bag, smiling mischievously as Harry and Bean stared back at him, both looking sombre over the headline and blurb that promised tales of woe of the highest quality inside.

He opened his door, checking to see if the corridor was deserted before extending his arm to knock on the door in front of his, half of his body still inside the room.

Harry opened his door a crack, phone in hand. “She said we couldn’t do it together!” He whispered, eyes darting to both sides of the corridor.

“I know,” Louis frowned dismissively. “What are you using?”

Harry turned the screen of his phone towards him, Louis’ own bum and arsehole framed by Zayn’s bedroom mirror staring back at him.

“Oh my god, these are so _old!_ “ Louis whispered, scoffing to cover up the fact that he was blushing over Harry still using the nudes Louis’d sent him when they’d first started having sex to wank.

“I know, you have to send me new ones,” He waggled his eyebrows, “Or better yet, we should make a video together. No faces.”

Louis smiled despite himself, whispering teasingly, “Maybe.”

“What are _you_ using?”

Louis bit his lip, already laughing as he pulled the Horse & Hound issue behind the wall.

Harry rolled his eyes, Louis bringing a hand to his mouth to stifle his giggles. He’d already teased Harry to exhaustion over his pictures, going so far as to rate them by booty popping, smizing level, scary factor, and ‘belongs in a zoophile soft porno’ categories – all the while giving out copies to every single person he was even remotely acquainted to, but where was the fun in telling Harry that?

“I can’t _believe_ you bought another copy just to tease me about it for the thousandth time, you _wanker_ , honestly sometimes I wonder what the hell I’m even doing with you,” Harry accused, but he was smiling as he shut the door in Louis’ face.

Louis smiled as he shut his own door, opened the magazine to the six-page spread featuring Harry, its location familiar by now, and folded the magazine on his favourite picture, one where Harry was without Bean, leaning on the paddock fence in full riding attire with his hair in a bun, whip in hand, and looking straight at the camera.

He propped the magazine on top of the armchair against the wall, only mildly embarrassed of his true intentions as Professional Rider Harry Styles stared back at him, and pulled his pants down.

He came in four minutes. So fucking whipped.

***

The sun was high in the sky as they crossed the border into West Sussex, speeding down the motorway with the windows down with One Direction’s newest album, one of the few bands both he and Harry enjoyed, playing on the stereo.

Louis closed his eyes and let the breeze ruffle his hair, his hand out the window, weaving through the wind. Harry’s left hand rested high on his thigh, squeezing his flesh in time with the music, the other on the wheel. Summertime was upon them, lifting their spirits.

They arrived some time later at the cabin Niall, Liam, and Zayn had rented for the weekend, only a short 10 minute drive away from Hickstead grounds.

Niall popped his head over the deck at the sound of the car tires, BBQ spatula in hand. “Ahoy! The homos are here!”

Louis exited the car, middle finger raised up at Niall as he took in his surroundings. The cabin was built on the second floor of an elevated wooden structure with a spacious deck on the front, a patch of woods behind it. To the other side, green fields stretched away, and Louis could hear water running nearby, though he couldn’t immediately pinpoint the source.

He and Harry climbed the stairs up to the cabin to find Niall already manning the huge grill, at least three different kinds of meat grilling on it.

“Lads! So glad you could make it!” He turned around, wearing an apron with a woman’s curvy body on it over his creamsicle polo shirt and chinos. “The other two are inside, manning the side dishes. Go on, go check out our crib!”

Harry laughed, clapping Niall’s back affectionately as he passed by him, pulling the framed screen over the doorjamb open before entering the place.

It was bright inside and a bit crammed as it wasn’t a big cabin, but the space felt welcoming. Louis could hear Zayn and Liam arguing over something in the kitchen (the merits of peas over mash, from what he could hear), but the big, comfy looking sofa called his name first, Louis catapulting himself into it to see if it would try to swallow him up.

It was heavenly, so comfortable it made Louis want to actually own furniture.

“God,” he moaned, twisting a bit on the sofa, feeling the give of the fabric against his skin, eyes closed. “We’ll definitely buy one of those for our house.”

His eyes popped open after realising he’d said that out loud, looking for Harry’s reaction.

Harry only smirked, eyeing him smugly from the end of the sofa. He picked Louis’ ankles up and lifted his legs, sitting on the couch with a heavy sigh and lowering Louis’ legs onto his lap. “Fuck, it _is_ comfortable,” he said as he turned his head in Louis’ direction, squinting mischievously. “Screw buying it. Let’s steal this one.”

Louis laughed, rising up on his elbows and looking around before whispering, “I’ll distract them while you carry it to the car.”

Harry cackled, throwing his head back, “You want me to carry this huge sofa down the stairs by myself?”

“I have faith in you.” Louis quipped, leaning his head to the side and smiling up at Harry.

They stared at each other, still smiling, until Liam popped his head out of the kitchen before turning back to it saying, “No, they’re not snogging yet,” and then turning to them, “Good of you to join us, lads. Which one of you fancies peeling the potatoes?”

Louis scoffed, twisting around to look at Liam in the kitchen doorway, “I thought we were _invited_ for barbecue, Lee-yum.” as Harry was already getting up, following Liam into the kitchen. ” _Fine_. I’ll help Niall with the meat,” he said to the empty room while begrudgingly getting up from his sofa heaven.

***

“God, Niall, you have a gift.” Harry moaned around a mouthful of pork, the five of them gathered round the table out in the deck, adding after Louis’ pointed stare, “And you too, baby. Wouldn’t have tasted the same if you hadn’t helped.”

Three different snickers were heard around the table, Louis smiling happily at Harry despite the other three. Damn right it wouldn’t, sticking the pieces of meat in the skewers was a fine art.

“I miss living with you lads,” Niall said, gesturing to the table at large with the beer in his hand. “Not as fun living alone,” he paused and took a sip before saying, “Except for the sex noises. That I don’t miss.”

They all laughed, knowing full well how familiar Niall must’ve been by now with the two couples having sex.

“I’m afraid it’s a package deal, Ni,” Harry said, stabbing another piece of pork with his fork, “Can’t take us without the gay sex.”

Louis nodded sagely, scooping a portion of mash into his mouth. “’Sides, we’re moving in together just the two of us next training season.”

“Aw,” Liam smiled, eyes crinkling. His brows rose up as if struck by an idea, “I’m calling best man dibs now, Lou.”

“Fuck _off_ ,” Zayn scoffed from his side, elbowing him. “ _As if_ Louis would pick anyone but _me_ for his best man.”

“Oi!” Liam complained, rubbing his side, “Don’t hit me, you!” He reached out to pinch Zayn’s side, Zayn smiling and twisting away from Liam’s fingers, Liam following him until they were both a laughing, writhing mess, play fighting on the floor.

“Oh, boy.” Niall sighed, pulling his legs off the floor and out of harm’s way from their flailing limbs, “The weird mating ritual has started, lads.” He told Harry and Louis, who looked, amused, as Liam started to tickle Zayn, pinning him to the floor as Zayn gasped for mercy, “Give it twenty minutes tops and they’ll be running off to the bedroom.”

The three of them laughed, Niall still nursing his beer as Harry and Louis ate, the table being shaken occasionally when Zayn or Liam bumped into it in their wrestling.

T’was a good start for their summer.

***

It was already dark out by the time Harry and Louis finally pulled up to their hotel, a sprawling red brick building built on the grandiose country estate that hosted most of the crowd that attended the prestigious event. The awaiting doorman smiled warmly at them, pushing open the heavy, antique wooden door.

"Wow," Harry breathed, coming round to Louis' side after handing in the car keys to the valet. "Straight out of a Jilly Cooper novel."

Louis chuckled, watching the warm incandescent lighting reflected on the marble floors of the lobby as they made their way to the reception desk. Everything about the place _screamed_ old money, and it never failed to make Louis feel out of place even though he’d competed in those grounds countless times before. “Other side of London, that, love.”

“Good evening, sir.” A tall, bald man with smooth chocolate skin smiled at them from behind the black granite counter, his navy uniform impeccable. “My name is Thomas, and on behalf of our staff, I’d like to wish you a warm welcome to The Hickstead Manor. Are you here for the Equestrian Show?” He smiled wider at Louis’ polite nod, stretching his arm to the young woman positioned in front of a computer screen further down the counter. “Wonderful! My colleague Sara over there will take care of you. Have a pleasant evening, sir.”

“Thank you,” Louis smiled, already reaching into his pocket as he moved down the counter, only to realise that Harry had stayed behind, his head up and mouth agape as he stared up at the lavish chandelier that hung from the double-height ceiling. “Haz!” Louis called, chuckling as Harry startled and hurried over to his side. “You’ve never been inside, love?”

“No,” Harry bit his lip, ears turning slightly pink. “My grandparents and I used to stay on a small B&B down in Brighton. This is so bloody _posh_.”

“Wait ‘till you see the dining parlour,” Louis smiled, affecting his best _received pronunciation_ accent. “It has a 1859 Bechstein!"

Harry giggled, a hand coming up to smooth his curls, his posture stiffening. “Dearest, it’s not polite to comment on such things.”

"Your posh accent is shit!" Louis laughed into his hand, trying to bite his smile down as he spotted one of the team directors reading the daily mail in a lounge chair near the unlit fireplace. “Stop it! We’re supposed to be professionals, we’re on duty.”

“You started it!” Harry whisper-shouted, trying to appear outraged through his dying giggles.

They approached the young redhead behind the counter, her uniform matching the concierge’s. She looked up at them and smiled, reciting, “Welcome to The Hickstead Manor! My name’s –“ She eyed them a bit strangely when both Harry and Louis erupted in a residual wave of giggles, Louis biting his lip and urging her to continue while Harry looked up, nose scrunching to stifle his smile. “–Sarah, and I’ll be happy to– Sorry, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, love, never mind us,” Louis shook his head, pulling his ID from his wallet and placing it on the counter, Harry doing the same. “Hi, we’re under the British team reservations.”

“Oh, of course!” She muttered to herself as she started to click away in her computer, blushing when she looked up to Louis’ raised eyebrow. “Oh, sorry–“ she stammered, looking to where her colleague was welcoming an elderly couple as if apprehensive of being overheard. “Sorry, I just– You looked familiar.”

“Yeah, not my first year, love,” Louis smiled, fingers drumming on the counter as his eyes scanned the woman’s features. He hadn’t the slightest recollection of her, not even faintly, but that was hardly surprising given how awful he was at remembering people. “I’m a rider.”

“ _Mr. Tomlinson_!” She exclaimed, looking up from his ID in amusement, eyes darting again to the concierge and then to Louis, “That’s why I remembered you!”

Louis smiled politely, his fingers drumming a bit faster on the edge of the counter. This part never failed to be awkward, when people remembered him only for him not to remember them back at all.

Except she leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Do you need me to-” one of her fingers came up by her face to form air quotes, “’ _Call you to the front desk’_ when Mr. Grimshaw checks in?” and Louis’ memories of her surged back in one terrifying second. His gut dropped to the floor as, from his peripheral vision, he saw Harry tear his eyes away from the ornate paintings he’d been eyeing distractedly, looking as if the woman had grown a second head.

“That won’t be necessary,” Louis hushed out, staring hard at her, hoping desperately to convey his meaning silently. Her eyes darted between them for another second before she seemed to understand, a flaming blush creeping up her neck. “Are you almost done?”

“Yes, sir, I apologise for the delay.” She cast her eyes down, suddenly all business, finally clicking away and checking them into the system.

Louis kept staring at her resolutely, afraid to move so much as an inch in Harry’s direction, closing his eyes in dread when Harry turned to him, mouth opening as if to speak, fuck, _fuck, motherfuckin–_

“What does Nick Grim-“ Harry inhaled audibly, his whole body going rigid besides Louis’.

Louis waited a second before slowly opening his eyes, heart hammering in his chest, to find Harry staring past him, his expression hardened like Louis had never seen it.

Louis followed Harry’s line of sight, slowly twisting around until his eyes landed on a heavy, austere man with ashy blonde hair that’d just entered the building and was approaching the front desk. He was wearing a pinstriped suit and carrying a lit cigar in one hand, every inch of him exuding power. A tall woman with equally Scandinavian features trailed a few feet behind him with an IPad clutched in her manicured hands.

Louis’ breath caught, apprehension settling over him like a heavy cloak. He could pinpoint the exact moment the other man spotted them – he saw the almost imperceptible falter in his regal gait, the downward twitch of his thin lips, his waxy, pale complexion hardening. Louis had to fight the urge to seek Harry’s hand to clutch in his, instead slowly turning his gaze towards him, watching Harry hold the older man’s stare, his posture radiating tension.

Time slowed to a stop during the seconds it took the man to reach the front desk, stopping several feet apart from them in front of another receptionist, wordlessly extending his arm to her, his eyes never straying from Harry. The woman – Abby, her nametag said – hurried out of her seat, presumably to fetch his key card, while Thomas the Concierge approached them.

“Excuse me, sir, sorry, hm–“ The man slowly tore his gaze away from Harry, turning to the concierge. “Sorry, Mr. Magge, but I must ask you to put your cigar out, as it is not allowed to smoke inside,” Thomas said sheepishly, pointing to one of the No Smoking signs nearest them.

Henrik Magge scoffed derisively, muttering something that, though Louis’ Danish skills were lacking, he could safely bet was insulting by the involuntary wince of Magge’s assistant, and watched as he put out his cigar right on the lavish countertop to the stunned, but silent audience of the staff, snatching his key card off of Abby The Receptionist’s hands before marching in the direction of the elevators without so much as a glance back, his skinny assistant on his heels.

***

“The nerve on him! How dare he stroll around like he owns the place, after everything that’s happened!”

Harry paced the length of their hotel room, his hair a wild mess from him pulling at it in frustration.

“It’s not like he had any scruples before, love,” Louis reasoned, shrugging as he crouched by their small suitcases, carefully scooping the garment bags containing their competition outfits and hanging them in the built in closet. He turned his head to see Harry’d stopped pacing, frowning at him. “I mean, _yeah_ , how dare he.”

Harry sighed, walking the few feet necessary to throw himself face-first on the bed. “Shut up.”

“Sorry, love,” Louis sighed, coming to sit on the bed by Harry’s head, running a hand through Harry’s back over his blazer. “You know I’d strangle him if I could, but it’s not surprising at all that he showed up to Hickstead. This is hardly the worst thing he got away with.”

“I should’ve sued his arse for all its worth,” Harry grumbled from his position buried in the sheets, wiggling his torso in protest when Louis stopped petting him. “I should’ve made sure he won't be able to do any more harm.”

“Babe,” Louis sighed, “We’ve talked about this before. You don’t have enough evidence for a lawsuit, just as he didn’t have evidence to convict you of animal abuse. It was never about that. It was about damaging your reputation. The thing is, you can’t get back at him by damaging _his_ reputation because, honestly, I don’t think there’s any more damage to be done there, everyone knows the man’s not worth the shit on his shoe.”

“It’s so unfair,” Harry mumbled, dragging himself nearer until he could drop his head on Louis’ lap, Louis’ hand automatically coming up to card through his hair. “Heaven forbid we riders have a scandal to our names, but people like Magge, people with _money_ , can do whatever the fuck they want and still have the board of directors kissing their arses. Bunch of hypocrites, the lot of them.”

“I know, love,” Louis brought his other hand to trace the shell of Harry’s ear, rolling the tip of his earlobe between his fingers. “We all go through our share of outrage before we eventually understand we’ve gotta play by their rules if we want to stay afloat.” Louis smiled wryly, countless memories of his years as a professional rider coming to the forefront of his mind. “It’s kind of like an initiation ritual.”

Harry twisted and turned until he could look up at Louis, his head still in his lap. “How do you not go mad, Lou? How do you still do this, year after year, knowing everything that goes on behind the scenes?”

Louis smiled, bittersweet. “Because, despite all the shit, I love what I do,” he shrugged his shoulders with his stare fixed ahead. “There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing than being around horses.”

“Competing is not the only way for you to be around horses, though,” Harry said, measured.

Louis slid his gaze down, his fingers still playing with Harry’s earlobe. “That’s true.”

They stared at each other, the seconds slipping away from them, a certain horse yard in Cheshire on both their minds. Harry bit his lip, sighing, before getting up and off the bed. “I’m going to go check on Bean before we go to dinner, see if he’s being well watched. Can’t be too careful with that scumbag around.”

“Oh– Okay.” Louis tried not to let his disappointment at Harry bypassing yet another perfect opportunity to bring up their future show, busying himself in getting up to finish getting their garments ready. “Do you want me to order something in, or do you want to eat downstairs?”

“Order in, if that’s okay?” Harry stopped by the door, key card in hand. “Don’t want to risk bumping into him again and get any more pissed off before I have to show tomorrow.”

Louis nodded, “Of course.”

Harry blew him a kiss, and left.

***

Louis looked out on the paddock below him with bated breath, biting his lip nervously. Harry’s horse gave the final struts towards the end of his choreography, only his routine song being heard around the big space, all eyes on them. Harry’s posture was as impeccable as his high bun and formal competition ensemble where he sat atop Bean.

Louis waited, counting the steps Bean gave in his head, _one two three, one two three, one two three,_ until he bowed, stopping his movements in perfect synchrony with the music.

There was a moment of silence, and then the audience erupted in boisterous cheers, the volume increasing until Harry was receiving a standing ovation.

“Bloody brilliant!” Louis smiled so big his face hurt, clapping enthusiastically and whistling.

“Indeed, Mr. Tomlinson,” said a voice to his left, startling him. He’d been so engrossed in Harry’s performance that for a moment he’d forgotten where he was, and who he was with, “Bloody brilliant, indeed…” Shirley Assef trailed off, her surgically enhanced face watching carefully as Harry rode a lap around the paddock bellow the private box they were at, thanking the audience.

***

Harry was craning his neck over the heads of the people swarming him, brow furrowed as his eyes wandered, when Louis entered the competitor’s area. He lit up when he saw Louis speed walking in his direction, his smile stretching impossibly bigger.

“Hey,” Harry said as soon as Louis was within earshot, disentangling himself from all the people trying to congratulate him. “Where were you?”

“I was watching from one of the private boxes. Just –” he waved his hand flippantly, “Business. You were spectacular, babe!” He pulled Harry into a hug, squeezing him tight before pulling back to look at him again. “I’m so proud!”

“Thanks,” Harry bit his lip around a toothy grin, cheeks flushed, “It _was_ great, wasn’t it? Bean was sensational. I could _feel_ how much he missed showing.”

Louis smiled, eyes crinkling. He wanted to kiss him _so bad_ , but there were other people waiting to talk to Harry, and Louis knew it’d still be a while before Harry was free of his competition obligations.

Louis was content in hanging back and watching Harry get praised, though. He deserved every bit of it.

***

Louis smiled and nodded attentively, eyebrows high on his forehead as he tried not to show how horrified he was by the story being recounted to him by one of his patrons, about how she got a horse disqualified from the competition for trampling her lap dog during training.

The things he did for this job, really.

“… And then I said to the programme director, if he ever wanted to see another cheque from my husband Baron Stonem for this little get together here that you lot put together,” she swirled a heavily adorned finger around the crowded ballroom, the emeralds on her rings catching the light from the stately chandelier dangling above their heads, “that murderous animal better not put on another saddle in its life!”

“That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think, Lady Stonem?” Louis soothed, his cheeks stretching in a fake smile despite his gritted teeth, “It was hardly the horse’s fault. It’s just an animal, same as your dog–”

“Oh, none of it, Mr Tomlinson.” She snatched a flute of champagne from a passing waitress, interrupting him, “My poor Alfred had his little paw hurt, and that beast must pay for it.” She opened her designer clutch to retrieve a monogramed cloth napkin, dabbing at the sweat pooling in between the rolls of her multiple chins. “Lord, why must it be so stifling in here? Mind you, Mr. Tomlinson, we came down from our summer estate in the highlands solely for this event, I cannot _bear_ this weather. We turned down an invitation for tea at Balmoral to be here, even.”

“Really?” Louis inquired, putting as much interest in his tone as he could muster while his eyes roamed the ballroom for the perfect opportunity to ditch his companion. “With Her Majesty the Queen herself?”

“Well, no,” Lady Stonem conceded, fiddling with one of her heavy earrings. “Her Majesty is very busy, at the moment. Still, very few have the privilege of being able to turn down an invitation for tea at her summer estate, even if she will not be in attendance.”

“Of course, Lady Stonem,” Louis nodded, “We are very privileged by your presence.” His interest piqued when he located a familiar profile amongst the attendees. “Oh, look. There’s Lady Earl talking to Mr. Styles. Shall we go over there and greet them?”

Louis watched in barely concealed amusement as the short, stocky baroness’ nose reflexively twisted in contempt at the mention of her taller, slimmer, richer royal peer. It was no secret among the circles of equestrian sports that the two ladies hated each other’s guts, but demonstrating it would be supremely unbecoming of them, and Louis always amused himself by watching them exchange platitudes in exemplarily polite royal fashion.

“If we must,” Lady Stonem shrugged, taking Louis’ outstretched elbow as they made their way towards the pair.

He and Harry barely concealed their smiles as the two exchanged pleasantries, talking about this and that while Harry and Louis only nodded their occasional agreement, as was customary for them.

In a lot of ways, the riders were only a step above the horses they rode – pawns in a higher power play, paraded around in social gatherings much the same way the horses were shown off in competitions. They’d learned to deal with it, and even find amusement from it.

“So, Mr. Styles,” Lady Stonem started, running her chubby, slightly wrinkled fingers down Harry’s arm, “I’ve not yet had a chance to congratulate you on your magazine cover. You look very dashing in it.”

“Indeed he does, Margaret,” Lady Earl said before Harry could answer, her slim hand wrapping around Harry’s other forearm in a thinly veiled display of possessiveness. “We were just talking about how lucky he was to have got out of that mess of an investigation with his image unscathed, weren’t we, Mr. Styles? _I_ never doubted his innocence, though. The article just confirmed what I already knew.”

Louis bit back a scoff just as Harry opened his mouth to try and talk again, but Lady Stonem beat him to it. “Oh, give the poor boy some credit, Victoria, it was hardly a stroke of luck that put him on that cover, especially with his good looks,” her eyes slid to Louis, her smile turning devilish. “You’ve seen how close these two are, Mr. Tomlinson here surely must’ve shown him how to guarantee his spot on the good side of the equestrian press.”

Louis’ gut dropped, his smile faltering as Harry’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline, gaze narrowing suspiciously. “I’m afraid he hasn’t, no,” Harry said politely, head turning to where Louis stood, colour slowly draining from his face. “Pray tell, _Mr. Tomlinson_ , how does one use their looks to stay in the good graces of the equestrian press?”

“Oh, darling, how very unbecoming of you to leave your teammate to fend for himself, _especially_ with that Danish man still gunning for his horse!” Lady Earl scolded him, turning her surgically slimmed nose up. “They let all sorts into the equestrian circuit these days, as if a stuffed wallet is guarantee of any class.”

At Louis’ silence, Lady Stonem leaned in conspiratorially, even though her tone still held no discretion, “You needn’t bother claiming it was _sentiment_ that kept pulling you into his hotel suites during all those years, Mr. Tomlinson, not with us,” she assured him in what was probably her version of a soothing tone. “We’re among friends, here,” she smiled at him, not noticing how, by her side, Harry’s neck veins were becoming more pronounced by the second. “I do agree with Lady Earl that it was only fair you let Mr. Styles benefit from Mr. Grimshaw’s penchant for young men of your–” she gestured between him and Harry, “ _inclination_ , as you so did.”

It was delivered calmly, with the assured confidence of someone whose words never brought any negative consequences upon themselves, harmful as they might've been.

 _Fuck_ , Louis thought, _fuck_.

“It’s of no consequence,” Harry said, tone as icy as Louis’d ever heard it, “All is well, now.” He didn’t so much as glance at him. “I do still have several people to greet, so as much as I enjoy your company, Ladies, I must excuse myself now.” He dropped a kiss to each of their hands, looking, to the unfamiliar eye, as calm and collected as the perfect professional rider ought to be as he excused himself from their conversation, but Louis could see the storm brewing.

***

It was only when Louis ran out of excuses for lingering in the ballroom that he went up to their hotel suite, pacing the room frantically as he mentally rehearsed his explanation to Harry, trying to make it as articulate as possible so that they could move past it without too big of a fight – but he was scared, was the thing.

He didn’t know what Harry was thinking, what he’d assumed from Lady Stonem’s malicious gossiping, what he was _feeling_ , and fuck–

This was not how he'd imagined that conversation going.

***

Louis had given up on Harry ever returning to their room, when he heard the lock clicking. He rose from his spot sitting on the armchair by the window, staring anxiously as the doorknob turned, and Harry let himself into the room, his competition jacket draped over his forearm and his cufflinks unbuttoned, but his high bun still intact.

He completely ignored Louis as he walked to the closet and hung his jacket back in its garment bag, dropping the cufflinks on a shelf and carefully stepping out of his riding boots, undoing his stock tie.

The silence in the room was deafening.

“Harry.”

Harry’s movements faltered only a small bit at Louis’ voice, but he continued to change into normal clothing as if Louis wasn’t even in the room, Louis’ urgency growing when Harry pulled his overnight bag from where Louis’d stored it on the higher shelve, and repeating, “Harry.”

“We're not having this conversation tonight, Louis,” Harry said, clipped, from where he was carefully folding tomorrow’s outfit into his overnight bag. “I'm too pissed off, and you still have to jump. It'll get in the way of the competition."

“Harry, let me explain–”

“You will, once I’ve calmed down,” he still didn’t look at Louis. “I’m spending the night at the cabin with the boys.”

“I know I’m in the wrong,” Louis said, louder, taking a couple of steps in Harry’s direction, though he wasn’t sure what he meant to do once he got there, “But you can’t just call all the shots in how we do this."

Harry stilled at that, his head moving slowly until he was staring right at Louis, “You’re in no position to tell me what I can and cannot do, Louis.”

“Goddamn it, Harry!” Louis exclaimed, his frustration boiling over, “If you’re angry, then _be angry_!” He started pacing again, though his eyes remained on Harry. “Drop the cool act! I know you want to hurt me, but running off is not gonna fix anything!”

“You want me to be angry?” Harry stalked towards him, closing the gap between them. “You want me to _yell_ at you, to scream about how you _lied_ , how you’ve _made a fool of me_ , _manipulated me_?”

“I want you to _stay_ ,” Louis stared back defiantly, his heart trying to beat its way out of his ribcage, “ _Stay_ , and listen to what I have to say. Don’t walk out on us.”

“Oh, we both know I’m not leaving you,” Harry said as he got impossibly closer, Louis taking an unconscious step behind. “Don't we?” He kept pushing until Louis felt the solid press of a wall behind him, Harry bringing his hand up and to the back of his neck, pulling at Louis’ hair until he had nowhere to look but at Harry - not that he’d want to. “You’re _mine_ ,” Louis could see it in Harry’s eyes as his anger morphed into something else, something equally as dangerous. “Whatever it is that you and Grimshaw had, it’s _over_ , and you’re mine.”

“Yes,” Louis sighed, body responding automatically to Harry’s proximity, “And you’re mine.”

“I am,” Harry agreed, eyes darting to Louis’ lips for a fraction of a second before he stepped back, leaving Louis slumped against the wall, dazed and hard, “But you still lied to me, and I’m still not staying the night.”

“Harry,” Louis growled, propelling himself off the wall, frustration built anew. Louis knew he had a temper but Harry could be so petulant, _god–_ “Will you sit the fuck down and let me explain?”

“Why are you mad?” Harry whirled around, kicking his still open overnight bag to the side as if clearing an arena for them, and there was a metaphor there, but Louis was too preoccupied to see it. “You’re the one in the wrong here, Louis. It was because of _your_ lies that I had to find out through _Lady Gossip herself_ not only that you dated Nick Grimshaw for _years_ , even though you told me that you’d never had a boyfriend–”

“I didn’t!”

"Bullshit!" Harry cut through, his voice rising in volume. "I asked around, you know," Harry motioned to the closed door behind him. "At the party just now, I asked about you and Grimshaw, and apparently it's no secret how you two have a long shared past," he scoffed, eyeing the ceiling. "It's why most of them think you got so famous so young, you know? Just like Lady Stonem said." He pulled his hair out of his bun, head lowering to lock gazes with Louis again, "Except they don't know shit about you, and I fucking do, Louis. I know you wouldn't fuck your way to the top, and I know, I fucking know how it must've bothered you that that's what it looked like, which begs the question - why did you keep coming back, then?" Harry stared him down, his voice mocking as he said, "Did he have a magic cock? Shot heroine out of it instead of come? Were you addicted?"

Louis took a deep breath, knowing that it was Harry's jealousy that was trying to get a rise out of him, and that wouldn't help at all. "Do you want me to say I had feelings for him? Is that gonna make you feel better?" He raised his eyebrows in question, hands coming to rest on his hips. "Damnit, Harry. Last time I fucked him was before we even met, for christ's sake! And even if that wasn't the case, he wouldn't have stood a chance against you! What I felt for him pales in comparison!"

"No," Harry shook his head, turning his back on Louis as he started to pace the room. "If it really had been that meaningless you'd tell me about it, especially when you found out he'd interview me for the-" he paused, slowly turning to look at Louis, a question in his eyes.

Louis took a deep breath. Shit, this was not gonna be pretty. "Yeah, that was me," He crossed his arms in front of his chest, widening his stance. "And I don't regret it. It was the fastest way of helping, getting you on that cover. I'd do that, and way more, for you."

Very slowly, Harry asked, "What exactly 'that' entailed?"

Louis refrained from rolling his eyes only through sheer force of will.

"Talking. I agreed to this stupid special issue they're gonna print round the Olympics, and a photoshoot in Rio once we get there. It's not like I had to do a lot of persuading, you know. Your story was the biggest of the year, and they got the exclusive."

"Okay." Harry said, considering, and nodded to himself. "Well, I can't deny that the article did help. I might've even thanked you for it, if you hadn't lied."

Louis did roll his eyes this time, and thought, _If you knew about me and Nick, you'd never have agreed to the interview, you git_. He didn't say it, though, because he liked his balls attached to his body, thank you very much. "Fair enough."

"Don't ever lie to me again, though. Never, ever, no matter how noble you think your motives are. No more secrets."

Louis relaxed, exhaling a shaky breath. "Of course, I promise," he started forward, arm extending for Harry, only to stop short when Harry bent down to retrieve his overnight bag. "Wait, you're still leaving?"

"Yeah." Harry said, stuffing his wallet and phone in the bag and zipping it closed. "I'm hurt, Louis," he looked at Louis, biting his lip, and the look on his face made Louis feel like he was being punched in the guts. "And I need you to respect the fact that I don't want to be here tonight, ok?"

"With me, you mean?" Louis said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Harry regarded him for a long moment before nodding, his eyes equally shiny, saying, "I'll call you." and turning around to leave.

Louis didn't wait for him to close the door to let the tears fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://leavingonatrain.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/anarambles)  
> [fic's post](http://leavingonatrain.tumblr.com/post/131246281790/fic-one-for-luck-by-leavingonatrain-larryziam)


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it - _The end!_  
>  But before that, a few words:  
> I'd like to say a massive thank you to Kelci, who so kindly betaed this. Thank you, love, for putting up with my crazy and my wildly indiscriminate use of punctuation. You're the true MVP.  
> Thank you to Alice for prompting this, you're the reason this completely self-indulgent monster of a fic started to take form in my head. Thank you to Karlee and Fanny, for always cheering me on and offering their honest opinion, I love you lots and lots.  
> And finally - _Thank you_ , reader, for your comments and kudos and overall support. I hope it's been as fun for you as it's been for me.  
> Now, without further ado,

Louis hurried his pace across the field, rubbing his arms for warmth against the unexpectedly chilly wind of the night. He was still in the polo shirt he’d worn all day, courtesy of his sponsors as usual during competitions, and the temperature had dropped considerably as the sun had set.

Summer in England was never fully _there_.

After Harry had left, Louis had only stayed in the room long enough to convince himself that Harry wasn’t coming back that night before flinging himself out the door, the quietness of the room too stifling. He was beyond caring what the people he’d bumped into on his way out would think of his red eyes and puffy face, single-minded on seeking the best source of comfort he could think of.

He entered the competition stables area, finding the one that housed the horses on his delegation, the groom on the night shift silently nodding his recognition and letting him through. Darcy was sleeping on her feet, as Louis’d predicted – The new environment of a competition meant she didn’t feel safe enough to lie down, but just looking at her made breathing a little easier, made him less fidgety and anxious.

He watched as she breathed in deep, her head bobbing slightly with each exhale.

He hadn't counted on the look he put on Harry's face, was the thing. He'd been so preoccupied trying to solve Harry's problems with his horse that he'd overseen the fact that maybe he could hurt Harry just as much as being away from the competitions had, and _fuck_ , hurting him was the last thing Louis ever wanted to do.

Except, of course, he went and fucking did it.

He rubbed off another pair of tears from his cheeks, knowing full well that he deserved them, and vowed to himself that he would keep his promise to Harry and be 100% honest with him from then on.

It wasn’t nearly enough to undo the knot in his chest, but it helped.

***

He decided to make his way back through the garden to avoid the worst of the wind, going round the building in hopes of finding the back door that opened up to the pool unlocked.

There was no swimming allowed past sunset, so Louis didn't find it strange that all the lights in the pool area were turned off, the place engulfed in near darkness, only the lights from a few windows making the water of the pool shine black, glinting as the wind rippled through the surface.

The whole place was empty save for someone stretched on one of the lounge chairs by the water, the burning tip of a cigarette bright orange against the darkness.

He could feel the stranger's gaze on him as he approached the hotel, and as he got closer to the light, he understood why.

"Fancied a night walk?" Nick asked him before taking a slow drag of the cigarette, his expression unreadable in the near darkness.

"Something like that," Louis said, stopping a few feet from where Nick was laying down. He wiped under his eyes even though he knew Nick wouldn’t be able to tell he’d been crying in the poor lighting. "What about you? Can't sleep?"

"Just sent in my last article of the day," Nick said, smoke seeping out of his mouth and nose as he talked. "Journalist hours, etc."

"I know," Louis said, because he did. "Can I bum a fag?"

It had been months since he last smoked, but if one night warranted it, it was that one.

"Aren't you jumping, like, tomorrow?" Nick asked him, though he was already reaching for his pocket.

"Day after," Louis corrected him, picking one cigarette out of his outstretched pack. "Nicotine's not on the doping list, anyways."

"I know," Nick said, because, yeah, he probably did. "Still."

Louis was silent as he lit the cigarette up, handing the lighter back to Nick before crouching to sit on the lounger next to his, both facing the pool.

They were silent for a minute, Louis breathing in deep and letting the nicotine work its magic, before he looked up at the night sky, cloudless for once, and asked, "Did you ever think I was sleeping with you out of interest?"

He didn't need to turn his head to know that Nick had turned his. "Where the fuck did that come from?"

"Just," Louis chuckled, seeing if he could recognise any constellations, and failing miserably, "Humour me."

Nick was silent for the longest time, long enough for Louis to go through half of his cigarette even though he was pacing himself.

"No," He finally decided on. "Maybe at first, ‘cause, like, you were really out of my league-"

"Still am."

"-And you seemed to barely tolerate me when we weren't hard."

"And then?" Louis prompted, turning to look at him.

"I kept waiting for you to ask me for something, but you never did, so," Nick shrugged, the movement barely discernible. "Why _did_ you sleep with me?"

It was Louis' time to shrug, "Fancied you, didn't I?"

It amazed him how easily the words rolled off his tongue, when back in the day he couldn't have imagined ever saying them.

"Had a funny way of showing it."

"I know," Louis conceded, blowing smoke into the sky. "'m sorry."

There was a barely audible intake of breath that told Louis Nick hadn't been expecting the apology, and _fuck_ , Louis hadn't been that much of a dick, had he?

“Look at you, handling shit maturely. Never thought I'd see the day.”

"Fuck off." Louis laughed, flicking the ashes off the tip of his cigarette onto the pavement.

"I’m sorry, too," Nick said after a while, lighting another fag. He took three long pulls before saying, "You and young Harry - Is it serious, then?"

"Yeah." Louis answered, not missing a beat. His cigarette was turning sour, burning too close to the filter, and he was cold again. He should go back to his room, _Harry-less_ as it was.

"Do you love him?" Nick asked, making Louis pause on his way out of the lounge chair.

“That’s kind of none of your business,” Louis said, defensively.

He was surprised to hear Nick chuckle besides him, his cigarette smoke being exhaled in irregular puffs.

“Oh, Louis,” Nick said, smile in his voice, “never change, you prickly little thing. Don’t you ever change.”

***

Louis sat perched on the edge of the training paddock, his boots clanking rhythmically against the wooden fence. The buzz of competition was in the air, people going about their preparations around him, a jittery nervousness in their movements.

Only one person remained calm through it all, his amber eyes focused as he reviewed the fastenings on his horse’s saddle.

“Will you stop kicking the paddock?” Zayn said, not raising his eyes. “It’s distracting.”

"Sorry," Louis said, his fidgeting stopping. "God, I can never understand how you remain so calm before your competitions."

"Getting nervous will do me no good." Zayn shrugged, loosening the brittle a touch. "You haven't hung around Eventing in a while," He remarked, looking at Louis with his brows raised. "Harry still giving you the cold shoulder?"

"Yeah," Louis heaved a long, suffering sigh, looking up at the blue sky as if taking offence to it, “He said he’d call me, though.”

“He showed up at the cabin looking a mess,” Zayn said, propelling himself on top of his horse, “I think he’s right pissed at me and Liam for not telling him about Nick,” He scoffed. “As if we’d have butted in, right?”

“Sorry,” Louis winced, guilt twisting at his gut.

“Nah, it’s fine. Liam went all _mother hen_ on him, you know how he is,” Zayn smiled. “Harry’d stopped sulking after the third cuppa,” he looked down at Louis. “I’m really interested in your thought process, though – like, in what world not telling him about Nick seemed like a good idea?”

“One where Harry depended on Nick’s connections to make the cover in time for this?” Louis gestured for the grounds at large, his arms doing a sweeping motion.

“Please,” Zayn scoffed, “When that scandal broke you’d been together, what, half a year? Liam and I had the _exes_ talk on the first _week_.”

Louis sighed, worrying his lip between his teeth. He looked up at the sky, avoiding Zayn’s eyes. “I was ashamed, okay?”

“Of Nick?”

“No,” Louis shook his head, his legs dangling over the fence. “More, like, of the person I was with him, you know? I was young and _stupid_ and a right arse.”

“You kinda were,” Zayn agreed.

“Right, well, no need to agree,” Louis glared at him. “So, like, I know Harry has this image of me, you know? He doesn’t, like, put me in a pedestal or anything, but I like the way he sees me. He _believes in me_. It makes me want to live up to it, you know? Be a better person and all. I guess I didn’t want to ruin that.”

“I don’t think telling him about how you and Nick were a pair of emotionally constipated bellends would make him think less of you. You’re only human, you know? And you didn’t do any of it on purpose,” Zayn shrugged. “I doubt Harry’s never unintentionally broke someone’s heart, either. Honestly, I think _not_ telling him is actually doing more harm. He’s probably thinking you two had this long, tragic love story that’s too painful for you to talk about.”

“God, no,” Louis wrinkled his nose. “Whatever infatuation I had with Nick faded ages ago.”

“Well, then tell him that, you wanker.” Zayn rolled his eyes, gathering his horse’s reins in one hand, “Now, as much as I appreciate your company, I’ve got a derby to win.”

***

The next day dawned bright and blue, regardless of Louis’ stormy mood. After Zayn’s competition he’d done as much last minute training as it was allowed the day before a competition, only to come back to his hotel room hours later and have his heart break all over again when there was no sign of Harry having returned.

He ended up hacking a hefty pay-per-view bill in hopes of distracting himself, but his eyes kept straying to the unlit screen of his phone no matter what he put on, and as midnight approached and went by, his despondency grew, leading to a few meagre hours of fitful sleep.

He’d seek Harry out as soon as he’d jumped, he decided as he waited to be checked in for the derby along with the other jumpers, fiddling with his lucky helmet. He’d given him his space, waited for Harry to contact him, but Harry’d said he’d call him _36 hours ago_ , so that meant Louis was allowed to seek him out today, right.

Right?

His phone vibrated with a calendar alert, and Louis frowned as he pulled it out of his pocket, swearing profusely when he saw the _H’s brunch with Shirley Assef!!!_ reminder he’d set for himself. _Shit_ , with everything that’d happened he forgot all about it.

He dialled Harry’s number but got voicemail, trying Niall’s next.

“You know I love you, Louis my lad, but I’m not playing peacemaker between you two,” was Niall’s greeting, sounding sleepy on the other side of the line. He’d just woken up, then. Good.

“That’s not why I’m calling,” Louis dismissed him, gesturing for the rider behind him in line that’d go for the loo. “Are you with Harry?”

“I might be.” Niall announced, non-committedly yawning through the line, “Why are you asking?”

“Right, so, I need you to wake him up and send him on his way to the hotel, like, _right now_. He has brunch with Shirley Assef in an hour.”

“Assef? _The_ Shirley Assef?”

“That’s the one.” He pushed his way into the bathroom to find it empty, leaning on one of the sinks. “I’m, like, 90% sure she’s gonna make an offer for half-ownership of Bean, right, and Harry’s not exactly speaking to me right now as you know, so I’m gonna need you to get his arse there.”

“ _Fuck_ , okay,” Niall sighed, rustling noises on the background. “What do I tell him?”

“The truth,” Louis bit his lip, staring at his reflection on the mirror. “And in case he tries to, like, stand her up just to spite me, you kick his arse – I know he wouldn’t, but just in case, okay?”

“Right, okay, got it.”

“Thanks, Ni,” Louis sighed, starting to make his way back to the queue. “The reservation is in his name, 10 am on the tea rooms, ok?”

“Got it,” Niall quipped. “I’ll make sure he’s there. Good luck on the jumps today, bro.”

“Thanks,” Louis’ gut tugged nervously, the jitters starting to settle in. “Thanks, man.”

***

It wasn’t the best set of jumps of Louis’ career, but it was definitely more than he expected given his emotional state.

Luckily for him, as the members of the official British team weren’t allowed to vie for national prizes, he wasn’t given a score and a place on the leader board, so his poor performance wouldn’t taint his statistics.

After dismounting Darcy at the backstage area and handing her to Stan, he planned to make a bee line back to the hotel before he had to be at the wrap dinner, but as soon as his feet touched the ground again he was corralled by Sophia, who could inspired the fear of the Lord on anyone who got in the way of her job as Media and Press manager running anything but smoothly.

“Are you kidding me, Soph?” Louis moaned, only barely stopping himself from stomping his feet. “I’m not even formally competing! How much paperwork can there be?”

“Shush, now, I’m not the one to cry to,” Sophia said in her trademark non-nonsense voice, not even looking up from her iPad. She waved an assistant over, Louis sighing deeply and unfastening his helmet as the young girl approached him, makeup brushes in hand. “No paperwork today, but we’ve got FEI TV first, then Sky Sports is doing a live link, then Horse&Hound – but  that’s only for print, then CNN and we close with another live link with BBC Sports. Huh,” She pondered, shifting her weight to her other Hunter-boot-clad leg. “That’s actually pretty light for the end of the competition season.”

Louis pointedly ignored her, closing his eyes as Sophia’s assistant sprayed his flattened hair back into something camera-appropriate.

“Ok, let’s rehearse,” Sophia lowered her clipboard, standing straight and speaking into an imaginary microphone. “I’m here with Louis Tomlinson in Hickstead grounds; Louis, it’s been a busy season for you, hasn’t it?”

Louis heaved his most long suffering sigh before straightening, looking into an equally imaginary camera and enunciating, “Yeah, I’m very pleased to be here, this competition season’s been wonderful…”

***

“…We’ve had such challenging opponents and I’m really glad to see the growth in interest in the equestrian sports; I might be biased, myself, but I think it’s a wonderful sport, very engaging.”

“Well you’ve certainly played a part in it, haven’t you? Never in British equestrian history have we had a generation of such talented riders,” The CNN interview announced, her expressive face half turned to Louis, half to the camera. “Do you think the increasing number of medals we’ve been getting these past few seasons influences the public’s interest?”

“I certainly do,” Louis answered politely, concentrating on not fidgeting with his fringe. “I think we all like to win, so naturally the attention shifts to sports in which the nation’s doing well.”

“Well, it’s great to have you on the British team, Louis, that’s for sure, and may the next season be as good as this one was.”

“Thank you,” Louis smiled politely. “That’s what we’re training for, thank you.”

The red light on top of the camera blinked off, the camera man raising a thumb at them as the reporter pulled her earpiece off and turned to him, smiling. “Thank you Mr. Tomlinson, and good luck next season.”

“Thank you,” He smiled, shaking hands with her as he nodded his thanks at the camera man.

Sophia’s assistant was back to shoving her brush full of mattifying powder up in his face as soon as the CNN crew turned to leave, Sophia herself sidling up to him with a glass of water. “Ok, so we’ve only got the BBC live link in four minutes, and then you have half an hour to shower and change before you have to be at the ballroom for the director’s speech; Do you need one of the crew to fetch you a sandwich?”

“Isn’t it a sit-down dinner?” Louis asked between gulps of water. “And have you seen Paul with my phone?”

“Is it?” She tapped a few times on her iPad, eyes scanning the programme, “No, the dinner with the whole staff’s only at 9, I’m talking about the _soirée_ with the sponsors at 7. You okay with not eating ‘till then?” She waited for Louis’ nod, “Right, then, I’ll have someone fetch your phone, it’ll be with your tux in your changing room – be quick, ok?” She stared at him pointedly before turning to her assistant, “Fix his tie for the live link, will you, love? ‘S a bit crooked,” and turned to leave, already giving orders in rapid succession into her two way radio.

Louis sighed and closed his eyes, lifting his chin and keeping still as the assistant undid the knot on his stock tie and started to fold it again. He wouldn’t be free of his post-performance proceedings at least until 10, then.

Bright camera lights burned orange behind his eyelids at the same time as someone boomed, ‘ _Live in 3!_ ’ from nearby and a familiar voice said from his left, “Y’alright, poppet?”

Louis opened his left eye to find Nick grinning at him, microphone beneath his armpit as he fit his earpiece into his ear. “I suppose.”

“You rode well today.”

Louis scoffed, “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you were shit,” Nick grinned. “No one noticed though, and your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks,” Louis deadpanned, sarcastic, closing his eyes again as the assistant finished getting him camera-ready.

“Y’alright with these?” Nick asked, handing him his question list for the interview at the same time as the assistant stepped back and Nick’s cameraman announced, ‘ _Live in 2!’_

Louis accepted the sheet, eyes scanning through the questions, his mind already forming the appropriate answers as Nick did some last minute fidgeting with his quiff by his side.

“Yeah, fine.” He handed the sheet back as the cameraman boomed ‘ _Live in One, fifty nine…’_. Louis straightened his posture and cracked his neck, hands clasping politely in front of himself, resting atop his helmet.

“Showtime, then,” Nick said, getting his microphone in place as the cameraman reached thirty seconds in his countdown.

It was as he’d just switched from announcing the numbers to silently counting down on his fingers from ten that Louis noticed the tall figure watching them from a few feet behind the camera lights, already in his tux, arms crossed as he stared at him and Nick, his expression hard as steel.

It was the first time Louis saw him in almost forty eight hours, yet it seemed an eternity.

 _Fuck_ , but he was beautiful.

Vaguely, Louis registered the camera light pinging red, Nick’s voice by his side as if coming from the end of a long tunnel, words indistinguishable. Harry kept staring straight at him, his chiselled face framed by bouncy curls that ended just past his bowtie. His hair was growing so long,–

Out of sight from the camera, Nick’s hand squeezed his hip. Hard.

Louis jolted back into the present, a blush creeping up his neck as the cameraman shot daggers at him. He turned to Nick, “Sorry, what was the question?”

Nick smiled, the perfect picture of a professional. “I was just telling the viewers what a tough track was set today, and how you must be pleased with the double clear,” He pointed the microphone back to Louis.

“Yeah, but we saw a lot of double clears today, so obviously we also had to aim for a fast lap,” Louis answered, “But I was very pleased, yeah, it was a tough track.”

“So, did your plan go well for today? Did everything work according to your training?”

“It did- I mean, for me the national competitions add the extra pressure of being watched by my country.” His eyes darted off camera just in time to see Harry turning to head into the chaotic maze that was the competitor’s back area, “But Darcy is an experienced horse, at this point, yeah, she did very well.”

“Congratulations,” Nick said as the cameraman made a hand motion Louis didn’t recognise. “Now, for the young riders, the ones actually competing for a chance at the British team today, do you have any advice for them?”

“They’re all very talented, I was watching them and I think it’ll definitely end in a jump-off, so I’d tell them to give it their best, they gotta risk everything.”

“Very solid advice,” Nick nodded. “Now, this is obviously the last derby of the season – when can we expect to see you riding again?”

“At the senior championships, in August, and then in October at the Nations Cup,” Louis smiled to the camera. “Then the whole team will dedicate themselves exclusively to the Olympics.”

“Ah, yes, _Rio_!” Nick exclaimed, enthusiastic. “We’re all counting on you for that Olympic gold, Tomlinson.”

“Thank you,” Louis smiled, “We’ll do our best.”

“Thank you for the interview, Louis, and congratulations on a wonderful season. Thank you,” he turned to the camera. “Back to you, Gary,” he waited for the cameraman to do a closing motion with his hands, the light on the camera going off, before, “What the fuck, Lou?”

“Sorry,” Louis said as he thrust his helmet on the assistant’s hands, already taking off in the direction he’d seen Harry heading. “Sorry, I’m tired, sorry.”

He speed-walked into a corridor buzzing with people, eyes alert for a headful of curls. Temporary office partitions divided the ample space into smaller rooms for the purpose of the competition, the layout changing each year, and he barely even remembered which way was the changing room he’d been assigned to earlier in the day.

Louis pulled at his hair in frustration, his other hand patting his pocket for his phone only to remember Sophia said she’d have it delivered to his changing room. He bit his lip in concentration as he resumed walking, turning the wrong corridor twice before entering the competitor area, relatively quieter than the rest of the backstage area with most of the competitors still out jumping.

He looked for the standard grey board door with his name scribbled on it, entering the room while trying to remove his riding gloves–

He jumped when the door closed behind him with a loud bang, gasping when he was pulled to the side by the elbow and pressed into a pillar, the only part of the room not made of drywall.

“Look what you did to me,” Harry growled as he used his hips to pin Louis to the structure, shifting his grip on Louis’ wrists until he could hold both of them in one of his big hands. The gloves tumbled to their feet. “I used to never get jealous, did’ya know?” He used his free hand to fumble with Louis’ stock tie, loosening it just enough so he could push it down and attack Louis’ neck, a hard, vicious bite that had Louis whimpering both from pain and arousal. “All of my past boyfriends, none of them had me feeling like _this_ –” He closed his lips over the bite, sucking with so much force that a wet, _obscene_ slurping noise echoed through the room.

Louis’ blood had rushed to his cock so quickly he felt lightheaded. “Harry–”

Harry ran his hand down his side until it stopped on his hip right over where Nick had squeezed, his fingers digging into the flesh with more force than he’d ever used on Louis before.

Louis threw his head back and moaned wretchedly, his hips stuttering forward as he pulled his wrists free of Harry’s hold and pulled him in by the lapels of his tux, their mouths clashing, hot and open mouthed.

“Want you,” Harry slurred against Louis’ mouth, fingers scorching in their path all over Louis’ body. “ _Fucking want you all the time._ ”

“C’mon,” Louis swallowed, hands scrambling to push Harry’s jacket off his shoulders, “Come _the fuck on_.”

“Don’t,” Harry said even as he shrugged out of his jacket, undoing the clasp on Louis’ red riding jacket and sliding his hand under it to pinch Louis’ nipple through his white shirt.

“Please,” Louis panted even as pain radiated from where Harry was pulling his nipple. “Missed you so much, _please_.”

“I have to–” He dove in for another kiss, their mouths fitting perfectly as their tongues brushed against each other. “I can’t stay,” He panted, hands running up Louis’ torso to cradle his jaw, leaning in to nip at Louis’ bottom lip. “I just had to– I had to.”

“ _Baby_ ,” Louis pleaded, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and keeping them pressed tightly while he rubbed their noses together. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“I know,” Harry whispered; his thumb sliding to play with Louis’ earlobe, arms thrown over Louis’ shoulders. He shifted his feet, inhaling sharply when their hips brushed. “I have to go. Shirley’s waiting.”

Louis’ brows wrinkled.

“Mrs. Assef,” Harry clarified, ears turning the faintest shade of red. “Apparently we’re on first name basis already.”

“Oh,” Louis blinked, “That’s good, yeah?”

“We ordered two pitches of mimosas at brunch today,” Harry said, giggling when Louis’ eyes widened comically. “I ended up sleeping it off all afternoon. I’m sorry I missed your performance.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t all that good, to be honest,” Louis winced. “I’m kinda glad you didn’t see it. Did you get around to talking about Bean?”

“I already gave her our lawyer’s card. She said he’ll receive a proposal draft by Monday.”

“That’s great!” Louis exclaimed, squeezing Harry’s waist. “Oh, love, I’m so glad!”

“Me too.” Harry smiled, his fingers toying with the baby hairs at the back of Louis’ neck, “Thank you. She told me it was you who set us up.”

“It was nothing,” Louis shrugged. A proposal for Bean, _god_. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You _did_ help,” Harry agreed. “Though I’m still angry over how you went about doing it,” he tugged sharply at the hair on Louis’ nape for emphasis. “I can’t deny it that you helped me turn the situation around, _a lot_. So, thank you,” he leaned in to peck Louis’ slack lips, leaning in again when Louis opened his mouth to speak, “Now’s not the time to talk about it,” he threw a glance around at the messy changing room, “nor the place. We’ll have that conversation later tonight, okay? After dinner and the closing ceremony.”

“Actually,” Louis winced, “We kind of have to leave after dinner.”

“Leave?” Harry frowned, “Why? Where to?”

“To… the airport,” He smiled sheepishly, “ _Surprise_?”

“Where are we going?”

“Greece,” Louis smiled, some of his excitement starting to bubble up, “for _seven days_.”

“ _Seven days?_ ” Harry exclaimed, incredulous. “What am I supposed to say to Caroline when I don’t show up for training?”

“I took care of it.”

“Of course you did,” Harry rolled his eyes, “You know, we’ve gotta have a long talk about your controlling tendencies.”

Louis opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak there was a loud rap at the door, startling them both. “ _Louis,_ ” Sophia’s voice could be heard over the door, “you have _ten minutes_ to meet me at the lobby _in your tux_. Don’t make me get the master key.”

“Okay,” Louis called, “Got it.”

“And Harry, one of the sponsors is looking for you,” Louis and Harry stared at each other for a panicked second, immobile in their embrace. “I know you’re in there, you git, just tell me what to say to her.”

“Uh,” Harry croaked, going red even though Sophia had caught them fooling around in changing rooms approximately a million times before. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”

“Alright,” she said over the crackle of the two way radio that Louis knew she always carried attached to her belt. “And this time you two better not leave any suspicious stains for maintenance to find or I’m billing the carpet cleaning off your paycheques, you hear me?”

***

Louis fixed his bowtie on the competitor’s bathroom mirror, turning his chin to inspect his smooth shaven jaw. He noticed a purple shadow under his ear, leaning over the sink to get a closer look at it and finding the clear outline of Harry’s teeth on the edges of the purplish mark.

He sighed, trying to hide it, but his jacket lapels weren’t big enough, nor was his hair long like Harry’s. He fished his phone out of his pocket.

_you couldn’t wait until I didn’t have to attend an official event to leave a GIANT hickey on my neck????_

**_sorry :)_ **

**_on a completely unrelated note_ **

**_did you know bbc sports will be covering the closing ceremony?_ **

**_:)_ **

Louis cackled despite his indignation over being so shamelessly _branded_.

Stupid, terrible, _wonderful_ boy.

***

As if upon careful planning, the sun was just rising when they finally made their way into their suite, sunshine bathing the typical Cycladic style room in an orange glow that made everything seem softer – from the white walls and furniture to the bright blue bedding and painted ceiling. The four poster bed, giant and springy, was smack dab in the centre of the room, with the balcony doors opened behind it to a spectacular view of the sea, the sun rising from behind the calm waters.

Louis pulled Harry to the balcony as soon as they were alone, both leaning on the wooden railing to look at the beach spread out before them. He’d chosen a hotel south of the Mykonos island, where the best beaches were located, since they would already stay in the middle of town in Santorini, anyway. But they weren’t isolated by any means, _Platis Gialos_ beach was alive with movement bellow them despite the early hour.

“ _Look at this_ ,” Harry’s grin was gigantic as he took in the scenery, squeezing Louis’ hand almost to the point of pain.

Louis turned to see Harry staring at him, a soft, fond demeanour to him. He grinned, pulling on the sole springy curl that always formed at the left side of Harry’s hair and twirling it on his finger. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it. I love –“ He swopped down to plant a rushed kiss on Louis’ mouth. “I love it.”

***

Even though they’d slept through the flight (business class really delivered its money’s worth), the giant bed was too tempting to resist, the stress of the past few days still clinging to them, weighing their shoulders down. They turned the AC on and closed all the curtains so that the room was dark, stripped down to their underwear and buried under the covers, sleeping until the early afternoon.

Later, after showering and changing into more beach-appropriate clothing, they got down to the beach, both wearing shorts with Louis in a white vest that showed his nipples if Harry tugged it to the side – and he did, _a lot_ , cooing over how tiny Louis’ nipples were and earning a twist on his own each time, until they were perked up and threatening to pierce through Harry’s silk shirt.

“So,” Harry said, pointing to the rows of beach recliners and straw umbrellas by the water, “shall we?”

“Okay,” Louis nodded, both making their way to a free set of recliners.

They paid for the loungers and ordered a selection of seafood before settling in, Harry depositing the beach bag they’d packed on his chair and starting to take his clothes off while Louis dragged his lounger away from the shade of the umbrella. He fully planned on working on his tan that week.

“Did you put sunscreen on?” Harry asked distractedly while he rubbed the cream on the butterfly on his tummy. “The sun will make your tattoos fade.”

“Don’t think so,” Louis answered, pulling his tank off and letting it drop to the sand. He grabbed the sunscreen and applied it over his arms and torso, spreading a generous amount over the tattooed areas.

“Here, let me do your back or you’ll be like Ross in that Friends episode,” Harry laughed, spreading the lotion over his shoulders and back.

Louis’ head dropped down, a tiny, involuntary groan making its way out as Harry’s giant hands kneaded the muscles of his lower back. His hands ran up his back to spread the lotion on the back of Louis’ neck. His fingers rubbed sideways until he could press down onto Louis’ still _very much obvious_ hickey, Louis hissing at the feeling.

“I can see your smug face,” Louis said without opening his eyes.

Harry exhaled a laugh against the back of his neck before leaning in and whispering against his ear, “Stop trying to pretend you don’t like it when I mark you.”

“Not where all my bosses can see it, no I don’t!” Louis scoffed, turning his head to frown at Harry. “You just did it so that Nick would see.”

“Guilty,” Harry shrugged, not looking sorry at all. “He had it coming after grabbing your bum like that.”

“He did _not_ grab my bum,” Louis laughed, lowering himself to his recliner and putting his sunglasses on. He pushed his fringe back so that his forehead could tan too. “He, like, poked my hip. Because I was too busy staring at you to answer my live interview.”

“Still had no business touching my man,” Harry countered, his biceps bulging as he put his hair up in a bun. “Thank you,” he said to the waiter that had come to bring their beers and had been standing frozen listening in on their conversation.

The man snapped from his stupor, a blush creeping up his neck as he excused himself and hurried off.

They waited until the waiter was out of earshot to laugh, Louis shaking his head fondly. Harry dragged his lounger until it was right next to Louis’, stretching next to him and sighing contentedly.

“God, this is beautiful.”

“It really is,” Louis agreed, watching the crystal clear water that stretched away in front of them, “How come you’d never been to Greece, Mr. Globetrotter?”

“Not a lot of equestrian events over here, innit?” Harry shrugged, “This is the first trip I’ve taken without Bean in _ages_.”

“Me too.” Louis agreed. “Will be nice, though, won’t it? We’ve got three full days in Mykonos, then we’ll take a ferry to Santorini in the middle of the week. Lots of time to properly get to know both islands.”

“Or to stay holed up in the hotel and make a proper sex marathon out of it,” Harry suggested, eyebrows rising out the top of his sunglasses comically. “Won’t even have to worry about running out of condoms.”

Louis’ eyes darted to the sides to check if they weren’t being overheard even as his cheeks pinked and his cock twitched in interest. He was very much aware of the fact that condoms were not in his secret packing list.

Enough bottles of sunscreen and lube to last them a lifetime, yes, but no condoms.

The results of their STI test were waiting for them in the mail when they got back to London the day before to pick up their luggage before heading to Heathrow. They were both clean – which was no surprise, of course, but the anticipation over what it represented was _killing_ him.

“I’m sure we’ll find time to get to know the island and work on our tan in between all the sex,” He said, voice low, grinning when Harry’s hand inched closer to his hips. “We might even work on our tan _while_ we’re having sex.”

“ _Why_ , Louis Tomlinson, outdoors sex, how _very_ daring,” Harry whispered back, picking Louis’ discarded tank and letting it drop over his crotch. It was his tell for when he was getting aroused in public. “Didn’t take you for an exhibitionist.”

Louis licked his lips, leaning over to whisper in his ear, “Your kinky ways are rubbing off on me, darling.”

“I’m all in for whatever involves me rubbing off on you,” Harry shot back, grinning. “ _Darling_.”

“Ugh, I _knew_ you were gonna make that innuendo.” Louis grumbled, slouching back against his recliner as Harry laughed, goofy. “You’re hopeless, Harold,” Louis shook his head, grabbing Harry’s hand and bringing it to his lips. “Hopeless, I’m telling ya.”

***

After an afternoon of lounging on the beach, with dips in the sea and naps aplenty, they put their clothes back on to go find dinner, walking along the shoreline until the delicious smell wafting from a small restaurant lured them in.

They dared each other to eat the most eccentric items on the menu, grilled octopus for Harry and squid stuffed with feta cheese for Louis.

Good food, salted wind ruffling their hair and the sound of the waves crashing in the shore lulled Louis into a state of tranquillity he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Lou, look, who am I?” Harry giggled, picking two octopus’ tentacles off his plate and holding them to his mouth, “ _Do you fear death?_ ” Harry hissed, affecting his best Davy Jones impression, lighting up when it made him laugh.

Louis definitely had experienced a lot of joy in his lifetime, but the whole-hearted contentedness he felt whenever he was with Harry always took him by surprise, both familiar and completely new.

Louis loved him so, _so much_.

It was as if lightning had struck his insides, shattering him to pieces – and in the sudden burst of clarity he could see everything that was once unclear. In that moment he couldn’t fathom letting another day go by without letting Harry know how much he was loved, couldn’t understand why he’d waited so long in the first place.

“What?” Harry asked as he bit into one of the tentacles, even though he should be used to Louis’ creepy staring by now. “Do I have feta cheese on my nose, or summat?”

Louis smiled, not trusting the words not to spill out of him the moment he opened his mouth, and leaned over the table to kiss him, octopus mouth and all.

***

They followed the boardwalk than ran along the sand’s edge until all the restaurant chatter was all but a distant murmur, the full moon illuminating their path as they weaved their way through all the beach recliners, deserted this time of the night, until they were at the water’s edge, still warm from the day as it lapped at their ankles. Harry’s hands buried at his nape as they stared into the ocean, so calm and still, anchored boats scattered along the shore. There was an analogy somewhere in there, in the way Harry anchored him, grounding him and pulling him into the present.

“Harry,” his voice wavered as he turned to face him, their profiles illuminated from the leftover artificial light that spilled from the restaurants. “I don’t want us to spend the whole trip avoiding that conversation.”

“I know,” Harry sighed, still looking at the sea. “Me neither. It’s so peaceful, though.”

“It can continue being peaceful,” Louis said, taking Harry’s hand. “It’ll be even better when everything is out in the open, don’t you think? No more secrets, like you said.”

Harry turned to look at him, “I’m not asking you to tell me every single thing that goes through your head. You still have a right to your privacy, and there’ll always be things in your life that are none of my business.” He started to pull them out of the water, until he could drop their things on dry sand. “You pulling strings to get me on magazine covers, though, that’s very much my business. I’ve been agonizing over what you had to promise him to make him change covers at such short notice. It must’ve been an editorial nightmare.”

“It was nothing,” Louis said, shaking his head, “Like, I’m not naïve, I know at some point in the future I'll have to do it and I'll hate every minute of it, but it's a small price to pay - Insignificant, really. And I told you, it's not like they're doing us a huge favour. Do you have any idea how profitable it must’ve been to have an exclusive on the biggest equestrian scandal of the season?”

“I know,” Harry conceded, going quiet again.

The wind picked up, blowing Louis’ fringe into his eyes. Harry pulled him closer, manoeuvring them until he was shielding Louis from most of it, the baby hair that’d escaped his bun forming a sort of halo against the moonlight.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Nick?” Harry spoke up again, looking down at him. “About your past together?”

“We never really talk about exes, do we?” Louis shrugged, “I don’t know the names of any of your ex-boyfriends.”

“But I know Nick. I was interviewed by Nick on more than one competition,” Harry insisted, eyes wide. “If you had to interact with any of my exes I’d tell you about them.” He licked his lips, “And you told me you’d never had a boyfriend before.”

“He wasn't, Harry. He wasn't my boyfriend,” Louis said, shaking his head. “We’ve never ever gone on a date. I've never introduced him to my friends, my mum doesn't even know who he is.” He licked his lips and swallowed before saying, “I know that three years seems like a lot, but we saw each other just as much as you and I see each other in _three weeks_.”

“Well, we live together,” Harry said, “Or, I live with you and Zayn, more like.”

“We _do_ live together,” Louis corrected. “Which is exactly my point! Harry–,” he sighed, “What you and I have, it’s so beyond what I’ve ever felt for anyone else, _ever_ , and when I met Nick I was young and immature, and a bit of an arsehole if I’m being honest,” Louis shrugged, “and I was– I _am_ ashamed of how I treated him, and I didn’t want you to think I’d ever treat you the same, ever.”

“I wouldn’t think that,” Harry said. “I wasn’t perfect in my past relationships either. And I’m glad you were an immature arsehole, because if you weren’t, you two could still be together and I’d be a homewrecker.”

“I’d never cheat,” Louis frowned, “even if I fancied the pants off of you, I wouldn’t cheat.”

“I know,” Harry countered, a small smile on his face, “Me neither.”

After a while the wind got even chillier, Harry picking up their things as they started to make their way back to the hotel, walking slowly along the shoreline.

“When I figured out you were the one behind the magazine cover, and _how_ you did it,” Harry started, staring straight ahead as they walked hand in hand, “I was _so_ furious, but like, most of it was jealousy that you went to your ex for it, because when Shirley told me you were the one that gave her the idea of buying a dressage horse I wasn’t mad at you at all, even though you hadn’t told me about it either.”

“And, like, you _love it_ when you do something right and I acknowledge it. You get _so_ grumpy when I don’t notice that you didn’t leave your socks strewn all over the bedroom, or that you took your empty cup of tea to the sink instead of just leaving it lying around, for fuck’s sake,” he continued, “But you go through all this trouble to help me get back on my feet, you know, you do this big gesture, and you don’t even want me to know? Like, what gives?”

“I didn’t do it for recognition; I did it to help you.” Louis raised his brows. “You thought I’d promised him something illegal, or summat?”

“I didn’t even know what to think,” Harry said, his hand massaging the nape of his neck as he stretched his shoulder. “Like, I had no idea what you’d promised him, only that it must’ve been something that’d make me mad, because _why else_ would you hide it from me? You hadn’t trusted me and that _hurt_ – But I never thought you had, like, _seduced_ him, or something. Like, it didn’t even cross my mind that you’d cheat on me, even when we hadn't talked yet and I had _no idea_ how you had done it.” Harry pulled at his bun until it came loose, shaking his hair free. “It’s a bit crazy, innit?” Harry turned to him, nose cutely wrinkled, “To be so sure of what you have with someone that you don’t even consider breaking up a possibility, even when you’re so mad you could _strangle them_.”

“Not even if I had done something illegal to save your arse?” Louis smiled. His heart was beating so fast.

“Not even then,” Harry shook his head. He stopped, his hand halting Louis’ steps as well, “That doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you anymore, and I’ll probably give you a hickey every time you have to interact with Nick for at least the next six months.” He grinned, “But if the last three days have showed me anything, is that I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, than I am _of you_. Of us.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis laughed, the tips of his fingers tingling where their hands touched. He was so eerily beautiful; _ethereal_ , even, and Louis was so, so lucky. “Harry, I’m so lucky–” He told him, choking up for a moment as the force of his feelings crashed over him again and again, “I’m so, _so_ lucky to have you in my life.”

He paused for a moment, sure that the frantic beating of his heart was audible even over the sounds of the sea. Harry’s mouth parted, and the hand that was holding his squeezed impossibly tighter, crushing even.

“I love you.” Louis breathed out, and even then it felt as if it wasn’t enough, as if the depth of his feelings couldn’t be contained in those three small words. “I’m so in love with you that it goes beyond what I can say, Harry. You are the love of my life.”

“I love you,” Harry said around his smile, his other hand letting their things drop to bring both of Louis’ hands to his lips. “I love you,” he kissed over Louis’ knuckles, “I love you so, so much.”

Louis smiled, feeling tear after tear leaking out the sides of his eyes, and if it were ever possible for him to die from happiness, this would be his moment.

He pulled his hands free to pull Harry into a kiss, his arms twisting around his neck as Harry’s wrapped around his waist and lifted him off the ground, Louis yelping and laughing against his mouth. Harry’s skin was warm and salty, his hair coarse and tangled from a day at the beach beneath Louis’ fingertips, his mouth the best thing Louis had ever tasted.

Louis broke the kiss off to whisper, “Let’s go to bed.”

Harry smiled as he answered “Okay.”

***

“You should take a shower,” Harry said as they stepped into the room, still chilly from the AC.

Louis’ brows slowly rose, “Am I too dirty for you, Harold?”

“Never,” Harry answered, swooping down for a peck. “Never, ever. Just- Trust me.”

“Okay,” Louis shrugged making his way into the adjoining bathroom. “Should I bother putting clothes on after?”

“Not really, no.”

“Okay. See you in a bit?”

“I’ll be here,” Harry smiled, waiting until Louis disappeared from view into the bathroom.

He showered quickly, but cleaning himself thoroughly, before taking the complimentary comb left by the hotel staff among other toiletries and combed his hair into something minimally presentable. He inspected himself in the mirror, noting how he already had tan lines on his hips from their afternoon at the beach, his skin easier to tan than Harry’s. He turned around and smirked as he saw how his bum, now a shade lighter than the rest of his body, seemed even rounder.

Satisfied, he walked back into the room to find Harry sitting on the bed holding a glass of a bubbly, slightly amber coloured drink in his hand. “You ordered champagne?”

“For you, while you wait for me,” Harry said, his eyes glued to Louis’ crotch. “Did you- did you _wax_?”

“Hm, indeed I did,” he smiled, preening under Harry's hungry gaze. “Where are you going?” Louis accepted the glass, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Shower,” Harry murmured, his eyes still glued to Louis’ smooth shaven crotch.

“We could've showered together,” Louis frowned, taking a sip from the champagne.

“We would've got- sidetracked,” Harry shook himself, getting up and putting some distance between himself and Louis. “Fuck, Lou.”

Louis smiled despite the interest his dick was showing in Harry's hungry gaze.

He waited for the bathroom door to slam shut before slouching against the headboard, his hands itching to touch himself.

He refrained, instead choosing to sit there and sip on his champagne, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of Harry taking a shower and imagining what the other man would be doing under the water stream.

Harry took longer than him to emerge, and Louis almost choked on his drink when he opened his eyes to find him still a bit damp, scrubbing a small tower on his hair, the other bigger towel covering only his fully hard dick, hanging from it.

“What have you got under that towel?” Louis asked, coy, anticipation building at the base of his spine as Harry walked closer.

“Hm, why don't you unhook it and find out?” He asked, mock-innocent.

Louis bit his lip around a smile, settling his glass on the bedside table before reaching for the towel, letting it drop to the floor and revealing Harry's hard cock.

Louis bit his lip and wrapped his hand around it, pulling the foreskin back to reveal the glistening head, a bit purple already. He looked up at Harry while he lowered his mouth to lap at the wetness there, smiling at Harry's hissed intake of breath.

He was about to dive in again when Harry intercepted his chin, guiding Louis’ head up at the same time that he lowered his. Their mouths met in a hungry kiss, Harry pushing on his shoulder until they were scooting down the bed, a little clumsy and a lot eager.

“Lou,” Harry whispered as Louis’ head hit the pillow, spreading little nips over his lips at the same time that he pressed their naked cocks together, “Can I – Can I do you first? I haven't, before.”

Louis’ brows furrowed, “But you said-“

“I wasn't the one not wearing the condom,” Harry elaborated, hips grounding down on him almost involuntarily. “It’ll be a first for both of us.”

“Oh,” Louis whispered, his legs spreading to let Harry in. “Yeah, sure. _Fuck_ –” Harry kissed him, mouth crashing into his. Louis moaned, heat cursing through his body, fingers burying into Harry’s curls and tugging, _hard_.

Harry fingered him slowly, tortuously, until Louis’ hip was buckling on its own, his cock hard and aching as it bumped into Harry’s. “C’mon, love. _C’mon,_ I’m ready.”

Harry shifted, his lube slick hand wrapping around his own dick. Louis leaned up to nip at his mouth, his hands running through every inch of Harry’s skin he could reach.

“You want it like this?” Harry asked, looking down at him.

“Yeah,” Louis panted, bringing his ankles up to lock together against Harry’s back. “Wanna see your face.”

“Love you,” Harry replied, his dick a point of pressure against Louis’ hole. “Love you, Lou.”

“Love you too, baby,” Louis whispered, watching every twitch of Harry’s eyelids, the curve of his mouth. “Love you so much, so _so –“_ he choked on a gasp as the head of Harry’s dick pushed inside.

Everything felt _wetter_ , somehow, more slick and much more intimate. His mouth dropped open, their eyes locked as they rode the feeling of being joined, no barrier between them.

“Lou,” Harry whined as he ground into him, their hips flush. “ _Lou_ , you feel amazing.”

“ _Move_ ,” Louis panted, moaning wretchedly when Harry obeyed. “God, Harry. Missed you so much,” He pulled Harry’s head down, their tongues touching before their mouths did, “Never wanna fight again.”

Harry chuckled against his mouth, breaking the kiss off to plant his knees on the bed and thrust into Louis more forcefully, “We probably will,”

“No we won’t,” Louis said, bringing his knees to his chest and keening when it got Harry in deeper. “We’ll be too busy fucking,”

“All the time?” Harry panted, a drop of sweat sliding down his temples to his cheek, Louis’ thumb wiping it off and sucking it into his own mouth.

“ _All_ the fucking—” He groaned, “ _all the fucking time,_ fuck,” He brought his hand between their bodies to pull at his own cock furiously, “fuck you feel so good.”

“You feel perfect,” Harry panted, his face twisted into a pained frown, “fucking _perfect,_ Lou, fucking hell.”

The bed dragged across the floor with the force of Harry's thrusts, Louis moaning high every time Harry buried himself in deep. _So fucking good, so fucking—_

“Oh god,” Louis screamed, his body seizing off the bed, limbs locking as he spilled into his own hand, “I _fucking love you_ ,”

Harry laughed through his pants, his hips losing every semblance of rhythm as he pounded into Louis, chasing his own orgasm. “Love—” He moaned, head dropping to Louis’ chest, “Love you— _Fuck!”_

He groaned, long and loud, and Louis could _feel_ his release inside of him, making him wetter, Harry’s slowing thrusts making obscene wet noises.

He lifted his head to plant an exhausted kiss into Louis’ mouth as his hips slowed to a stop, their tongues swiping lazily for a long minute.

Finally, he pulled out, both hissing at the oversensitivity, Louis lowering his legs to the bed as Harry dropped down besides him.

“Fuck,” Louis whispered, chest heaving, “ _Jesus fucking Christ._ ”

Harry chuckled half-heartedly besides him, dragging himself nearer until he was on his side and splaying his hands over Louis’ ribs. “Hm, me too.”

As the rush of blood in his ears subsided, he could hear the waves outside over the faint hum of the AC. He was already sore, come leaking out of him. He felt so dirty. “I’m a mess,” he said, pushing his hands down to drag a finger at the wetness on his thighs. “Maybe we should’ve brought condoms after all, this mess is highly impractical.”

“I don’t think I ever can go back to fucking you with a condom,” Harry said truthfully, his eyes blinking heavily. “Wait until you do me in–” he was interrupted by a yawn, “In a minute,”

“Yeah, maybe tomorrow, champ,” Louis chuckled, watching Harry fighting to stay awake.

“Sorry,” Harry slurred, “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“It’s fine,” Louis smiled. “We’re on holiday, aren’t we?”

“ _Fuck yes_ ,” He drawled, scooting closer to Louis and nosing at his collarbones, “Imma take a quick nap. Wake me up when you’re ready to go again.”

Louis laughed, bringing his hand to burry in Harry’s still damp curls. They were silent for a minute, Louis gnawing on his lip.

There was one more thing he wanted to get off his chest. _No more secrets,_ they’d said.

“Harry,” Louis said, waiting for Harry to acknowledge him with a tired _Hmm_ before blurting out, “I know about the horse yard.”

Harry stiffened by his side, the slow cadence of his puffed breaths stopping. “What?”

“When I was at your grandparents' last month, your nan let it slip that you were thinking about taking over it… with me,” He bit his lip, waiting for Harry’s reaction.

It was almost a full minute before Harry prompted, “…And?”

“And…” Louis’ brows furrowed, “I just wanted you to know that, you know– I know about it,” He exhaled, hurrying to say, “It’s cool if you changed your mind, though, with everything that’s happened since then, and–”

“You’re not freaked out?” Harry propped his head up on his hand, their eyes finally meeting as he stared down at Louis.

“ _Why_ would I freak out?”

“It’s a huge commitment.”

Louis’ brows rose, “You still want to do it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Harry asked, making them both erupt into a giddy laugh. “God, I’m going to _murder_ my nan.”

“No, please don’t,” Louis pleaded, “It wasn’t her fault at all, I was being nosy and pushed her into telling me.”

Harry was quiet for a long moment, his eyes perusing Louis’ features, “You’re absolutely sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure,” Louis smiled, fond. “You’re my future, Harry. Being with you makes me sure that some of the best days of our lives are yet to happen.”

“I can’t wait for them,” Harry said, his mouth stretching into a grin, his left dimple showing. “Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Louis smiled back, bringing his thumb to press into the lucky dimple that’d been his downfall ever since he first noticed it, using his hand to bring Harry’s face closer, their noses rubbing in an Eskimo kiss.

Neither could he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://leavingonatrain.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/anarambles)  
> [fic's post](http://leavingonatrain.tumblr.com/post/131246281790/fic-one-for-luck-by-leavingonatrain-larryziam)


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